Last Call
by ksiegfried
Summary: Captain Gideon and the crew of the Excalibur intercept a distress call from a disabled freighter. Appearances are deceiving -- the freighter is more than what it seems. This is a work in progress
1. Shadows of Demons Past

Title: Last Call  
Series: Crusade  
Author: K. Siegfried (sg1flygirl@yahoo.com)  
Disclaimer:   
i.The characters and stories of The Babylon Project: Crusade are Copyright © Warner Brothers, and are used here without permission or license.   
  
ii.No claims to the above copyright are made by the author of this work.   
  
iii.This work is for non-commercial use ONLY, and is produced for the enjoyment of fans only.   
  
iv.This work is the expression of the author and the depiction of The Babylon Project: Crusade characters herein are in no way represented to be a part of The Babylon Project: Crusade as depicted by the original author and copyright holder(s).   
  
Author's Note: This is my first fiction in the Babylon 5 universe. Thought I would expand my horizons a bit. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The weightlessness of space made him feel as if his body was floating on  
the stars themselves. What made it even more peculiar was the fact he  
was standing perpendicular to the destroyer's hull, something that would  
have been impossible in gravity. Low intensity magnets in the boots of  
his EVA suit kept him locked in that position as he surveyed the damage;  
a blast from an unknown enemy had breeched the hull. From the darkness  
he saw the destroyer's designation and the blue-gold Earth Alliance  
symbol emblazoned next to the triple-headed dog of the Cerberus' flash.  
Arcs from wielding torches sparked blue-green, attempting to patch the  
crater-sized singed hole.  
  
Chatter came though his helmet's com, announcing to the workers that the  
repairs were working, slowly allowing the ship to regain pressurization  
enough for a course correction and to maintain life support. The  
engines flashed in a burst of life as they gently fired, pushing the  
wounded destroyer.  
  
Alerting the other workers of his intentions, he flipped off the safety  
on the propulsion pack he wore. With a dull jolt, the magnets in his  
boots released, the temporary reversal of polarization pushing him from  
the hull. No longer attached, he drifted as the destroyer trudged  
along. A flick of his thumbs made the propulsion pack begin to fire in  
a series of short bursts, directing him away to get a better glimpse of  
the overall damage.  
  
Scorch marks marred the flecked gray metal, and he was annoyed at the  
sight, mentally calculating the man hours with the maintenance bots and  
space walks needed to make the Cerberus code compliant again. With a  
few more pulses from the pack, he rose above the ship, getting a glance  
down the length, over the engines and hangar bays, to the gravitational  
gyro, and finally command.  
  
Something off the port side caught his attention, the stars suddenly  
disappearing from sight. Lifting a hand to shield the blue-white glare  
from the engines, he stared into the abyss, unsure if grease or his  
breath had fogged his visor. But instead, space blurred in a bizarre  
mirage, stars and blackness swirling until they formed a shape that gave  
his blood a reason to turn to ice. Spindly spines spiked from its  
tubular center, like a demonic spider whose color absorbed all light. A  
single cry from the earpiece in his helmet released him from the terror  
enough to realize he had an entirely new set of problems.  
  
The Cerberus had increased speed in response to the sudden closeness of  
this new ship, quickly trying to limp towards a jump point that formed  
with a slow swirl of energy. He nearly laughed at the apparent downturn  
his life had taken, his mind catching up to the fact he was being left  
behind. Ineffectively he cried out into the com, almost begging not to  
be left behind. The destroyer lurched forward as the spidery ship came  
about, sliding in for a shot. It targeted the Cerberus' aft engines; a  
dark purple beam cutting a bisecting path through the ship. The  
destroyer shuttered from the further attack before the explosions  
engulfed the engines, quickly building into a conflagration that blew  
apart the entire ship. Violent colors blinded him in a flash of light,  
and he screamed, the blast wave sending him into a tumble the propulsion  
pack could hardly control. He screamed for the lost lives, he screamed  
at the enemy ship, but his loudest scream came for himself. A hand  
reached out as if to draw himself back to the non-existent destroyer;  
reaching out in disbelief that he had been discarded without any regard  
to his life. His heart lurched in desperation and the strangest desire  
to have been killed with his shipmates....  
  
The dreams were generally the same for Matthew Gideon, the type that  
forced him awake with a muffled scream and sweat soaked through his  
bedclothes. Eyes flashed open in terror, expecting to find himself  
still floating through desolate space, awaiting death. This had been  
slightly different as they all tended to be, his oxygen supply running  
out quicker than expected. He had suffocated, the sensation of gasping  
for breath still resonating through his body.  
  
Finally finding the courage to close his eyes, Gideon attempted to slow  
the rapid pounding of his heart. The heavy pulse bellowed in his ears  
to a deafening level, and he found himself relieved in the fact he could  
breathe again. Rolling over onto his back in the small bunk, he took  
several deep breaths, slowly feeling his heart return to a normal pace.  
He thought perhaps if he remained still for long enough, he would be  
able to fall back asleep. It wouldn't work for him this time, the  
nightmare stronger than it had been in several weeks. So Matthew opened  
his eyes once more, and gingerly sat up, shivering from the shine of  
sweat coating his entire body, wanting to put off taking a shower until  
he felt majority of the weakness drain from his legs.  
  
Stumbling from the bed, Gideon walked around his meager furniture to the  
small kitchenette in his quarters. The illumination from the consoles  
on his desk lit the path enough that he didn't need to ask for the  
lights to be raised. His hand shook as he reached out to clutch a mug  
and he forced himself to ignore it, determined to get a simple drink of  
water. Placing the mug beneath the small spigot, he filled it half way  
before lifting it to his lips to take a greedy gulp. Liquid dribbled  
down his chin and onto his shirt, but he was far from caring, hoping the  
water would fill the emptiness inside.  
  
It was always the same. The dreams left a vacancy that ran too deep for  
his tastes, taking too much of his time to fill. The death, the  
desolation, the abandonment, and the anger all served to hollow him.  
With care, he managed to set the mug on the counter without breaking it,  
leaning over the sink to catch his breath again.  
  
A sudden gust of air across his body made him shiver, a gasp of surprise  
escaping his mouth. Slowly he turned, glaring into the darkness, hardly  
believing that the man would have the gall to intrude at the current  
hour.  
  
"Galen." It wasn't a question; Gideon knew it was the Technomage's  
signature calling card, to appear with a slight breeze, whether wanted  
or not.  
  
"Of course." Finally he was able to find Galen among the shadows, a  
slight reflection of light glinting off the leather panels on his great  
coat. The Technomage stepped forward as he lifted a hand to push back  
the hood that kept his face hidden.  
  
"Your timing sucks, as usual." Gideon didn't mean for it to sound as  
harsh as it had, but the dream was still too fresh for him to be kind.  
He wanted to be alone.  
  
"Forgive me, Matthew." Galen's prim voice was soft, but didn't contain  
a hint of an apology. He studied the man standing beside the sink,  
ragged and tired, dressed in a shirt and shorts. The Technomage  
couldn't help but give a small smile, finding the usually kept Captain  
in that state of dishevelment.  
  
"What do you want, Galen?"  
  
"I was in the neighborhood, as you like to say, so I decided to pop in  
for a little visit." He took a few silent steps forward, and reached  
out to touch a trinket on the counter top, regarding it with idle  
curiosity.  
  
"At this time of night?" Gideon's anger was quickly rising with each  
minute the Technomage remained in his quarters. Galen now stood close  
enough for Matthew to reach out and snatch the trinket from his hand.  
He reacted in surprise, pulling back his hand as if it had been slapped,  
the smile on his face finally stretching into a toothy grin. He  
shrugged off Gideon's reaction and rubbed his fingers together before  
his hand disappeared within the sleeve of his coat.  
  
"I was-" The Technomage paused, as if trying to find the appropriate  
term.  
  
"You were?" Gideon crossed his arms over his chest and waited for an  
answer. For some strange reason, Galen began to look everywhere but at  
him.  
  
"Feeling lonely, I suppose." He almost sounded a bit melancholy in his  
words. His eyes caught Matthew's for the briefest moment, finding a  
glimmer of recognition within the brown depths, disappearing quickly  
again as the internal walls lifted.  
  
"Why don't you go haunt Dureena for awhile? I'm sure she'd have a use  
for you." Gideon had enough. Turning away from the Technomage, he  
walked toward his desk to look at the console. Maybe, if  
ignored--Matthew reasoned-- he would go away. He forced himself to act  
interested in the screen as it blinked the number of messages he had  
waiting.  
  
"You know as well as I do how much you need my haunting." Galen placed  
emphasis on the last word, and strangely it seemed to echo throughout  
the room between them. Anger flashed behind the Captain's eyes as he  
glared again at the Technomage who matched the gaze in intensity with  
joviality.  
  
"No. We are so not going down this over-traveled road again." Silently  
Gideon wondered if the Technomage would ever let him forget who had  
rescued him. It was something Galen seemed to bring up when it was  
convenient, or to leave hanging around Gideon's neck like an albatross.  
Defiantly, the Captain placed a hand on his hip and sliced the air  
angrily with the other. "You always do this to me!"  
  
"Do what to you, Matthew?" Galen knew he was beginning to test the  
limits of how far he could press Gideon, but there was a point. There  
was always a point.  
  
Gideon could do nothing but gasp in disbelief, totally exasperated.  
Occasionally he really wished Galen would take off in that technological  
marvel of a ship of his and never return. Digging his fist into his  
hip, he buried his face in his other hand, trying desperately not to  
fall apart. His jaw clenched tightly, hard enough he could feel his  
teeth compress beneath the pressure.  
  
"Feeling all moody because we had a bad dream, are we?" Galen's tone  
darkened, laced with sarcasm. "I'm sorry for that, but as you're so  
fond of saying, buck up and deal."  
  
Gideon had a blazing retort, rising from the anger that wanted to erupt  
within. Making a momentary mental note, he told himself to find a way  
to never let the Technomage under his skin again. Just as he was  
lifting his head from his hand, he felt another unusual breeze wash over  
his body.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" Matthew swore at the air, knowing Galen was  
likely to be listening still. He growled through his teeth before  
slamming both fists on his desk. The contents rattled, several items  
fell over, and the cold mug of coffee sloshed its half-full contents  
over the synthetic leather top.  
  
"I'm sure my mother would not appreciate that." The Technomage's voice  
filtered in from what seemed a vast distance.  
  
"Somehow, I think she'd agree with me." The Captain seethed beneath his  
breath. He found himself really wanting that vibe bath, anxiously  
needing to calm himself.  
  
His clothes were tossed haphazardly aside as he stormed to the bathroom,  
demanding the computer to raise the lights. The sudden illumination  
blinded him temporarily as he stepped into the small stall beneath the  
vibe head. With a quick press of fingers, the jets turned on, blasting  
him in the face with sonic pressure. Closing his eyes tighter, Gideon  
tried to relax, mind returning to a revenge plot against the Technomage.  
  
"One of these days Galen, I am going to smack that smug look off your  
face." The ire that had been brewing started to drain from Gideon's  
body. "Need your haunting? Like I need a hole in my head."  
  
Matthew turned in the stream, allowing the jets to pulse against the  
back of his neck and shoulders. Although he would have preferred  
old-fashioned water-so hot it seemed to scorch-the vibes seemed to make  
up for it in their ability to massage the external tension from his  
body. He only wished they could do the same for the jumble of feelings  
inside. His mind had run the gambit of emotions on him that night,  
first with the jarring emptiness from the dream and then the impact of  
Galen's visit that filled the void with rage.  
  
Gideon opened his eyes in a flash, eyebrows sinking in concentration  
before he cursed the Technomage again. Either unintentionally or  
not-though Matthew suspected the later-Galen had been able to fill the  
emptiness with an emotion that was more pliable and easier to control  
for the Captain. He didn't want to admit to himself that Galen had been  
right, that his preternatural visits were actually warranted in order to  
save Gideon from himself.  
  
"Hell with that. I don't need this. He can take his haunting and shove  
it." With an additional coding, the vibe shower increased its strength  
to the point it was almost painful. Gritting his teeth against the  
stream, Gideon took several deep breaths, slowly releasing them to a  
backwards count of four. The more he breathed, and the more he  
concentrated on the beating his back was taking, the more the anger he  
felt began to dissolve. Finally feeling refreshed, the Captain turned  
off the shower and stepped out, catching his reflection in the mirror.  
  
Unfortunately the vibe shower did nothing for the vast dark circles that  
seemed to have taken up permanent residence beneath his eyes. Wearily  
he reached to touch his chin, smoothing a hand over the beard that had  
begun to form across his upper lip and jaw line. A few minutes with a  
motorized razor took care of the persistent stubble, leaving him  
debating over his dark hair that was beginning to grow longer than  
regulations allowed. Passing a comb through the mass was enough to  
satisfy him before he moved on to getting dressed. Without much effort  
or thought, he removed the black pants and vest from their spot among  
his shelves. The vest was the last to be smoothed over his body,  
zipping easily half way over the red shirt beneath it. The gold buckle  
around his waist was cinched shorter than he remembered it usually did,  
and he frowned, attempting to make another mental note to eat more.  
Hands reflexively moved to the blue and gold Earth Alliance pin at his  
left shoulder, making sure it was straight. When satisfied at his  
reflection, Gideon picked up the last remaining object on his dressing  
table.  
  
The Earth Alliance graduation ring was deceitfully heavy; a red crystal  
was set with in gold and titanium alloy that had the EA symbol and his  
graduation class embossed on opposite sides. The tarnish from years of  
wear only made the patterns more visible and darkened the jewel to a  
near blood hue. He wasn't quite sure why he still wore it-no other  
officer he knew apparently did-but oddly it was his good luck charm.  
Through all the close encounters with death he had over his lifetime in  
the military, it was the only thing he could attribute his survival to.  
Gideon slipped it easily onto his left hand ring finger, pushing it back  
to the knuckle, and adjusted it.  
  
Picking up a pair of socks and his boots, Matthew padded across the  
carpet to his bunk and sat. His silver com bracelet sat on the small  
shelf beside the bed and he slipped it onto his wrist. It took him  
moments to put on his boots and lace them, glancing up at the  
chronometer near his bed to confirm his suspicions with a sigh. As  
suspected, Gideon was up several hours before his shift began and it  
left him wanting for something to do before the rest of the ship awoken  
to relieve the night shift crew.  
  
Often he was the earliest bullet car passenger, riding it along the  
three miles of tube that interlaced throughout the ship. He met the  
techs and engineers who kept different hours than the command staff,  
sharing a ride on their way either on or off duty. After a while they  
didn't mind his presence any more, treating him like another member of  
their guild.  
  
He had a different plan, something to give him a little variety. Eyes  
falling across the clothes he had discarded in his haste, he picked them  
up and placed them in the laundry chute before taking one last look at  
his reflection. Gideon headed for the door, walking out into the empty  
corridor, polished and gleaming from the cleaning crew that worked on  
the off-shift. Each footfall on the floor echoed to his satisfaction  
and he took his time to get to the bullet car. The doors opened as he  
arrived and he crouched over, stepping up into the car as he did. What  
he saw in the car would have made him back out if he hadn't already  
climbed more than halfway in.  
  
"Matthew!" Galen stated with mock surprise as he watched the Captain  
sink into a seat the furthest away he could find. The Technomage smiled  
and turned to face Gideon, feeling himself gently lurch as the bullet  
car began to move. The Captain was less than amused and tried his best  
to ignore the man. He gazed out the back portal, watching as the tunnel  
and other cars flashed by.  
  
"Still upset?" Galen's voice barely contained his laughter.  
  
"I'm not talking to you." Gideon wasn't angry anymore, but he wasn't  
about to let the Technomage have the satisfaction of knowing it.  
  
"Oh how juvenile, Gideon." The Technomage moved silently in a swirl of  
black cloth and leather as he settled himself into the seat across from  
Matthew's. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his thighs,  
intruding into the Captain's space in the small car. Gradually Gideon  
took his eyes away from the portal to glance down at the Technomage. A  
smile had parted Galen's lips, lighting his pale blue eyes as he gazed  
back. The external lights flickered across his features, reflecting  
dimly off his bare scalp.  
  
"All right, I'm sorry." The ruse was no longer needed; Matthew could  
tell Galen was fully aware that he was no longer angry. "But what do  
you expect when you show up like that unannounced?"  
  
"It wasn't unannounced. You knew I was there." Satisfied with the  
conversation and Gideon's apology, Galen leaned back slightly. The  
Technomage had referred to his unusual trick of passing through in a  
breeze, a manifestation that Gideon instantly picked up on.  
  
"One of these days, I would like you to show up around here like  
everyone else in the civilized galaxy instead of whenever you prefer to  
at the oddest hours."  
  
"Perhaps," the Technomage's hands folded together in the space between  
his knees. "But, perhaps I prefer to visit this way. Keeps things  
entertaining, wouldn't you say?"  
  
The car came to a stop, the doors sliding open to allow a tech entry.  
She glanced at the two men and gave a courteous nod of her had before  
sitting in the seat Galen had previously occupied. Covering her mouth  
with her hand, she yawned deeply before turning her attention to a  
flimsy in her hand.  
  
"Is that what you call it?"  
  
"Its not every day I get to see you half naked." Galen's smile widened,  
his voice raised enough to insure the tech had heard it.  
  
"Galen."  
  
"Really Matthew, you should have seen yourself."  
  
"Galen." Gideon's voice was grave with a warning and the tech fidgeted  
in her seat, not knowing what she had walked into.  
  
Galen's smile broadened, reaching up to his eyes, taking great delight  
in baiting his friend. He was surprised to have seen a blush darken  
Gideon's face as he attempted to slouch further into the bullet car's  
bench. Paranoid, the Captain glanced at the tech before resuming to  
glare at Galen.  
  
"Oh, I think she'd agree with me, wouldn't you, miss?" He had caught  
the shift of Matthew's gaze. Galen's eyes never left Gideon's as he  
brought the unsuspecting tech into the conversation. The blush that had  
risen in Gideon's cheeks quickly began to leach till he was starkly  
pale.  
  
"Me?" She asked cautiously, her eyes darting between the two men.  
  
"Ignore everything he says; he's clinically insane." Gideon hazarded a  
glance at the woman and she returned a careful smile.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Before Galen could continue the embarrassment, the bullet car stopped  
again at the command deck. Gideon was at the doors even before they had  
opened fully, wanting to quickly escape. Galen took his time in  
exiting, glancing down at the tech. The flimsy was nearly slipping out  
of her hand, so distracted by the conversation she had unintentionally  
been a part of.  
  
"Don't mind us. I was simply reminding our dear Captain not to take  
everything so damned seriously. Good day." All she managed was a  
slight nod as she watched him leave.  
  
"You can harass me all you want privately, but never do that again in  
front of my crew." Gideon was seething again, storming towards C&C.  
Galen practically had to run to keep up.  
  
"I admit it was a dirty trick, but like my previous appearance, it was  
for your own good. Why won't you trust me on that?" Hatch doors opened  
and quickly shut again behind the Technomage as he followed Gideon onto  
the bridge. The man occupying the Captain's station stood quickly, mild  
confusion crossing his face.  
  
"Captain, I wasn't expecting you until oh-six-hundred." He took an  
additional step off the platform, fully expecting Gideon to sit down.  
  
"Of course not, Matheson. I'm two hours early." Finally noticing that  
he had vacated his post, Matthew's face softened. "She's still your  
ship, Lieutenant. I'm not staying for long."  
  
Matheson nodded his head, but did not sit down, merely looked on with  
his hands clasped behind his back. His experience working with Gideon  
on the EAS Phoenix had made the Lieutenant used to the Captain's  
frequent bouts of insomnia, but that knowledge didn't make him any less  
concerned.  
  
"Anything interesting happen while I was attempting sleep?" Gideon  
asked; a short harsh stare was directed at Galen before his attention  
turned back to his first officer.  
  
"Nothing of particular significance, sir. Running scheduled  
maintenance, diagnostics, collecting efficiency reports-the usual grave  
yard shift kind of thing, Captain."  
  
"Well, since I know I'll have copies of all that crap--" he made a  
general sweeping motion with a hand, "on my desk in the morning, I won't  
bother to ask for details."  
  
"Of course, sir." Matheson gave a slight smile, and turned his  
attention to Galen as if he had just appeared. He bowed his head  
briefly out of respect, and received a matching gesture back from the  
Technomage.  
  
"I just wanted to stop by, see how things were going before I left to  
space Galen." Gideon said nonchalantly and the smile on Matheson's face  
grew.  
  
"I beg your pardon! Space me?" Galen fainted outrage. "Since when do  
you harm the messenger?"  
  
"Since you're the messenger." His words caught him off guard and Gideon  
suddenly turned to face the Technomage. "Wait, what message?"  
  
"The one I have to give you." Galen smiled, and straightened.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me you had a message?"  
  
"You never asked."  
  
  



	2. Hope Of What Will Be

Last Call -- Chapter 2: Hope Of What Will Be  
  
Please see the first chapter for disclaimers.  
  
Author's Note: I had previously neglected to thank JMS for developing   
this wonderful little sandbox of a universe to play in. All hail the  
Great Maker.  
  
  
  
  
"Are you purposely trying to give me a coronary?" Gideon was serious,  
angry at Galen's biased control of information. "I'd swear you were."  
  
Matheson watched with masked amusement, wondering if he should try to  
separate them before a fight ensued. Crossing his arms over his chest,  
he forced his face to remain neutral, biting the inside of his cheek to  
keep his lips straight.  
  
"There are such easy and amusing ways to torture you, Matthew. It's not  
my fault you are susceptible to them." Galen lifted his hand slightly  
in the space between them, wanting the Captain to stop his tirade for a  
few moments.  
  
"Tell me something, what good would it have done for me to come to you  
with a bit of information I could not confirm?" Gideon didn't answer so  
Galen continued. "None whatsoever."  
  
"You could have at least told me you were onto something."  
  
"That's what I was doing in the bullet car. Coming up here to check  
with Lieutenant Matheson on the particulars. Now if you will kindly be  
quiet, I will give you what my ship has just found."  
  
"All right, already. Let's see it." Impatient, Gideon stood with both  
hands on his hips, waiting expectantly.  
  
Galen's hand disappeared within his coat and withdrew a small amber  
orb. It floated above his palm as he extended it toward Gideon. A pass  
of his other hand from above activated it, the inside beginning to flow  
and ebb like oil in water with flashes of yellows and oranges.  
  
"I was only able to pick up a distress call and even then, my ship was  
having difficulties narrowing the signal to one location. There were no  
coordinates relayed with the message." Galen paused in his explanation  
to allow the orb to play the signal. It was a faint female voice  
sparked with static and brief blackouts, but the message was  
clear-freighter disabled, wounded on board.  
  
"Through the process of triangulation, I have three possible  
coordinates."  
  
Gideon wasted no time. Turning away from Galen, he reached for the  
controls on the captain's chair and pressed a button. Another console  
descended from above, linking him directly to the ships computer.  
  
"Give me maximum sensitivity on the scanners, Lieutenant," Gideon  
ordered. Matheson relayed the command and waited for the incoming  
information.  
  
"Gideon, it won't do any good. My ship was barely able to get a clear  
signal. Its not a long range craft or I would have tried these and at  
least given you a definite possibility."  
  
"Communications agrees, sir." Matheson's hand was on the com link at  
his ear. "At highest sensitivity, there's no chatter. Nothing."  
  
"What are the coordinates?" The Captain looked at the Technomage, away  
from the gridded console that gave him a glimpse of space outside. With  
a flourish, Galen produced a data crystal and placed it in Gideon's  
hand.  
  
Matthew quickly slapped it into the awaiting port in the console,  
calling up the coordinates. The grid system adjusted to the new data,  
pointing out each of the three with different colored crosshairs.  
Information scrolled vertically along the left hand side, auto zooming  
in on each area to reveal details.  
  
"Before you get overworked about this like you will, there is an easier  
way to decide among the three." Galen spoke softly at Gideon's right,  
and the words caught the Captain's attention.  
  
"What's your idea?"  
  
"You have two great resources aboard-Maximilian Eilerson and Dureena  
Nafeel. Perhaps they know of definite routes through these areas that  
freighters would travel." Galen suggested, shrugging slightly before  
taking a few steps back. "You have everything I have found thus far on  
that data crystal. I shall return shortly."  
  
Gideon opened his mouth to argue, watching as the Technomage turned to  
leave. Instead he considered Galen's words and silently agreed with  
him. With any luck Galen was parting to get more information.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You are most welcome." In a swirl of black, Galen left command,  
heading back to the docking bay and to his refueled ship.  
  
Tired of crouching over the chair to look at the screen, Gideon finally  
slid into it, flashing the Lieutenant a guilty smile as he smoothed his  
hands over the arm rests.  
  
"Okay, so I lied." Matheson chuckled in response.  
  
"Does this mean you want your ship back, sir?" He almost sounded a  
little disappointed.  
  
"Yes." Gideon said sarcastically as if it was blatantly obvious,  
enjoying the humor that spread over his first officer's face. Being the  
first telepath in Earthforce had given Matheson a need to be above  
reproach, often at the expense of his other amenable qualities. Gideon  
made it a goal to get the man to smile every once and a while.  
  
"Very well, sir. At oh-four-thirty, command of the Excalibur is now  
yours."  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Gideon checked over what else was on the  
crystal. "First order of business for the day is to get Max and Dureena  
out of bed. Tell them both I want to see them in the conference room in  
a half hour."  
  
"Sir, you are aware of how early it is, aren't you?" The Lieutenant's  
eyebrow arched minutely.  
  
"Yes, fully." Gideon smirked. "Which reminds me, see if you can't get  
the commissary to send up a fresh carafe of coffee."  
  
"Yes sir, will that be all?"  
  
"Also alert Doctor Chambers that she might have to setup triage for the  
wounded. Keep her informed on progress."  
  
With a curt nod, Lieutenant Matheson left to perform his orders, leaving  
Gideon to pour over Galen's data crystal. He had every trace bit his  
ship had recorded since it intercepted the transmission, starting with a  
muffled garble that sounded like stellar com interference, to clear but  
sporadic words. An all too familiar sinking feeling in his core  
returned, but he commanded his mind to stay on the task at hand.  
Forcing himself to focus, he listened to her voice. A voice that  
remained calm through each transmission, just relaying status with her  
plea for help.  
  
A small box at the bottom of the screen popped up, signaling that he had  
an incoming internal call. Silently, Gideon made a bet on which of the  
two it was.  
  
"What the hell is the meaning of this, Gideon? Do you know how early it  
is? Couldn't this have waited until a more reasonable hour?" The  
appearance on the com screen of the dark haired woman with amber eyes  
meant he had won the bet.  
  
"I know, Dureena." Gideon swallowed a bit, not liking the intensity of  
the look she was giving him. She hadn't bothered to pull on a robe over  
her nightgown, giving the illusion that she was standing in front of her  
com naked. For all he knew, she could have been. "And I'm sorry, but  
this is important. Galen's intercepted a distress call and I need your  
help."  
  
"You owe me." She jabbed a finger at the screen before cutting off the  
transmission.  
  
"Who don't I owe?" Gideon asked himself before turning back to the  
collected data. He played the message again, focusing on what the  
mystery pilot had said:  
  
"May day---day…freighter Toledo…breech---engines dead…wounded---air  
low…assistance---"  
  
"The Toledo, sir? Why does that name sound familiar?" Matheson had  
overheard the replay and stepped away from communications to come closer  
to the Captain.  
  
"The EAS Toledo, maybe." Gideon was just as confused.  
  
"Possibly. Wasn't she decommissioned and sold at auction after the  
Earth-Minbari war? It could be a private vessel now, sir."  
  
"That makes her what, at least twenty years old from the end of the  
war?" Matheson took a moment to do the math in his head and nodded his  
agreement.  
  
"Is there anything on that ship we could use to help track her?" Gideon  
swore at himself, wishing he had studied the blue prints of all EA  
ships, past and present, more thoroughly.  
  
"She would have been fully stripped of all military tech before being  
sold," the Lieutenant replied. The Captain's sour face made him  
rephrase his statement. "But we should have her schematics on record,  
sir. It would be easy to decipher what would have been pulled by  
Earthforce."  
  
"All right, get on it. Get any old EA engineering techs that we have on  
those blueprints if possible. I'm going to see if Max and Dureena  
haven't traveled this area before and know of any shipping routes."  
Gideon pulled out the data crystal and sent the control console back up  
into the canopy above his head.  
  
"Yes sir." Matheson replied, already busying himself with the com line  
at his ear.  
  
"If Galen comes back any time soon, send him in." The Lieutenant nodded  
at Gideon as he slipped from his chair, heading back towards the hatch.  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
Carefully she released herself from the five-point harness that kept her  
at the helm, and she felt herself drift out of the chair. Gently she  
pushed herself away and braced her free hand above her head for impact  
with the ceiling. Once free of the confines of the chair, she angled  
her motion toward the back, grabbing onto the straps that dangled down  
from above. Moving a foot out to the side, she was able to catch the  
corner of an access hatch, slowing her progression. The lack of gravity  
was something that took getting used to even if she did have previous  
practice. Being wounded made it that much more difficult. Luckily her  
clothing wasn't as restrictive as it could have been; she had removed  
the dark robe that usually draped over her body to keep one of her  
traveling companions comfortable.  
  
"How are they doing, Drefen?" The Minbari she called to looked up from  
where he had strapped himself in beside the other two passengers. Each  
were bundled in hammock-like netting to keep them stationary; a Human  
male and Minbari female, both were seriously injured and unconscious.  
  
"Managing." He replied in the same Worker caste dialect she had  
addressed him with. "There is no way to tell how extensive Daniel or  
Karnier's injuries are, Naomi."  
  
Drefen was missing his outer robe; he had used it to wrap over Karnier's  
petite frame. A ragged cut streaked across his brow ridge, the dried  
blood crusting on the side of his face and neck from where it had been  
smeared. The dappled patch of blue on the crown of his bald head was  
darkened, bruised from the same object that had impacted with the smooth  
bone crest that ridged his skull. His light eyes regarded her with  
concern, watching her wince from the pain her arm gave her.  
  
"I wish you would let me look at that." A hand floated up from his lap  
to point at her shoulder. She shrugged him off, instead bracing herself  
with a foot against a panel protrusion before reaching out to touch  
Karnier's hand. The Minbari woman's hand was ashen, even more so than  
its usual pallor, cold and clammy to the touch. Vainly Naomi tried to  
bundle her better, but Drefen had already done it several times before  
in the same reaction to Karnier's condition.  
  
"There isn't anything you can do. You've already set it for me and I  
took an oxitab earlier." She glanced at him with a smile before turning  
her attention to the Human. "I'll just imagine Sech Durhan was giving  
me a lesson. Similar pain, similar injury."  
  
The comment served to loosen the Minbari's set features as he allowed  
himself a smile. He would have pressed the issue if it weren't for the  
fact he had a headache that felt as if his skull had been split open  
from his crest to his chin. Meditation had only done him a small amount  
of good; Naomi's insistence that he stay conscious kept him from trying  
anything that would shut him out from external stimulus. He agreed,  
knowing he most likely had a concussion. The painkillers hadn't done  
much except to turn the sharp pulsing pain into a dull throbbing one.  
  
He watched as she satisfied her curiosity with Daniel's condition,  
knowing it wasn't out of mistrust of the information he had given her,  
but out of concern. The man had taken more of a beating-several ribs  
cracked with a possibility of internal bleeding. Even unconscious, he  
moaned slightly at her touch on his face.  
  
Slowly, Naomi released her foot and allowed herself to drift over to  
Drefen, steadying herself with a hand on his harness across his chest.  
With care, he covered her hand with his, taking comfort at the touch.  
  
"Speaking of looking at, how's the head?" She tried not to press  
against him too much, but with her injured arm in a sling, it was all  
she could do to keep her feet braced below him to steady herself. A  
gentle push against Drefen's chest kept Naomi at a polite distance.  
  
"What is that saying you have, 'a headache the size of a jump gate?'"  
She laughed, listening to it in Standard English as he switched  
languages. Drefen had even managed her inflections, mocking her  
kindly. Naomi's laughter was infectious and he couldn't help but join  
in, groaning in pain as the motion stretched the cut above his eyes.  
  
"It's your own fault." She wished he would release her hand long enough  
for her to touch him, to try and soothe his pain. Instead Drefen  
touched Naomi, lifting his hand from hers on the harness to press to her  
chest above her heart.  
  
"For listening to you?" The Minbari smiled, reaching up to touch her  
face with his other hand. It was a gentle graze that left the side of  
her chin tingling. Slowly his fingers trailed trough a few curls of her  
dark hair that had fanned out from her head in the zero-gee. The effect  
looked ethereal and beautiful to the Minbari, like petals from a  
chestnut colored flower were crowning her head.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I know." Again he smiled. "But I have to admit that occasionally you  
have a few good ideas."  
  
"Unfortunately, this was not one of them." Naomi bowed her head, the  
smile draining from her face. Sighing heavily, she leaned against the  
hand on her chest.  
  
"No, the mission is sound. It is the method that has been less than  
desirable."  
  
"That's an understatement." Naomi moaned, knowing what Drefen meant.  
Glancing above their heads, her eyes followed the pipes and paneling  
along the ceiling before looking at her friend again. "I just sent out  
an update of our status."  
  
"Should I ask?" The Minbari's eyebrows lifted slightly, not liking the  
look on the Human's face. Naomi almost wanted to laugh.  
  
"Radiation levels have begun to rise-nothing fatal yet. Life support is  
failing. And we're drifting as far as I can tell. The nav-com is  
fried, so I'm not exactly sure where to we're drifting though. If the  
radiation and the lack of oxygen doesn't kill us, then some planet we  
collide with will."  
  
"Your cheery optimism is truly enlightening," Drefen stated so deadpan  
that Naomi smirked.  
  
"Just call it like I see it. Unlike you Minbari who call it how others  
want to see it." The lighthearted barb didn't go by unnoticed. Drefen  
shook his head.  
  
"Learning the guise of half-truth is an art form. One the Religious and  
Warrior castes generally excel at. Now a lowly Worker engineer like  
myself has no use for the half-truth, but because I am Minbari, I have  
to understand the finer points of it." Momentarily he closed his eyes,  
becoming tired. If Naomi stayed close, perhaps she would allow him to  
take a brief nap.  
  
"If there is nothing else that the sechs have taught us, we must keep in  
mind that faith will survive. Our being called out here is for an  
excellent purpose. It is not my belief that the universe would try to  
keep us from doing our duty."  
  
"Now who's being a cheery optimist?" Naomi smiled and slowly pushed  
herself away from Drefen. "I've set the computer to alarm us if it  
picks up on an incoming transmission. It would probably be best to  
conserve energy and get some sleep."  
  
"I agree." Reaching over, Drefen helped Naomi strap into the harness  
that was beside his. She winced in pain as the straps pressed against  
her wounded shoulder. Tightening the waist and right shoulder strap  
kept her stable enough that she could keep the left side loose.  
  
"'Course, if the computer fails, it won't matter much anyway." With a  
smile she reached out her hand to grip his gently.  
  
"Go to sleep, Naomi." Drefen gave her hand a squeeze and let their  
hands float to where they wanted to rest in mid air.  
  
"Yes, Drefen." Naomi fished her left hand through the harness to keep  
her arm in the sling against her body. She closed her eyes and took a  
deep cleansing breath, focusing in on the gentle touch of the Minbari  
beside her. With surprising calmness, she began to make plans on how to  
guarantee the safety of all her crew.  



	3. Waiting

Last Call -- Chapter 3: Waiting  
  
The commissary had come through, having a coffee carafe waiting in the  
center of the round table by the time Gideon made his way to the  
conference room. Slipping into the chair nearest the display console,  
Matthew poured himself a mug and curled his hands around the ceramic.  
  
After taking his first sip, he placed Galen's data crystal into the  
computer and loaded the information as he waited for Dureena and Max.  
Gideon played the distress call again, listening to the same message as  
it looped. He had heard his share of distress calls over his career,  
all ranging from angry and frightened cries to the hallucinations of the  
oxygen deprived. They all left him with a similar sense of grief and  
need to help. But this call was different. She was almost serene in  
her calmness, resigned to the possibility she wouldn't be heard. A  
small part of his brain argued that it could be a trap, something used  
to lure in passing ships for some devious purpose.  
  
"This had better be good." Gideon reflexively jumped, not expecting to  
see the woman standing beside him. Dureena had come into the room  
unnoticed. Trying not to betray the fact that she had startled him, he  
looked over the rim of his mug at her.  
  
Dureena was calmer than she was in their earlier conversation, and  
dressed-- her usual mix of dark leather and fabric covering her body.  
Obviously showered, her hair fell in gentle curls and braids around her  
face instead of the tangled mane from before. A smirk curled Dureena's  
lips as she gazed down at Gideon with amber eyes, watching with  
amusement as he continued to sip at his coffee.  
  
"I'll try and make it worth your while." Lowering his mug, Gideon  
motioned to a chair and watched as she sat down. Always a presence,  
Dureena seemed to take up more room than just her body in the chair,  
sliding it back so she could rest her elbows on the edge of the table.  
Without flourish, she reached for the carafe and a mug, pouring out a  
small amount of coffee. She wasn't fond of the taste, but the caffeine  
and warmth would be welcomed.  
  
"I thought Max was supposed to be here." Dureena took a tentative sip,  
expressing her disgust with the brew in a wince. She forced herself to  
take another taste.  
  
"He'll be here."  
  
"Yes, I'm here." The hatch opened, allowing Max Eilerson entrance into  
the room, hardly looking up from the notebook he had in his hand as he  
walked. He scratched a few notes in the margin of the page before he  
sat. When finished, he closed the notebook and placed the pen across  
the top. Reaching up, he pulled off the dark framed glasses from his  
face and placed them on the table. The xenoarchaeologist looked unusually  
disheveled; his hair was uncombed and the first few buttons of his tan  
linen shirt were undone. Dark circles lined his eyes from going too  
long without sleep.  
  
"Now, if you wouldn't mind getting this meeting started, Captain, I have  
several more artifacts to archive before I'm supposed to send a coded  
message to IPX." Max leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over  
his stomach.  
  
"I certainly don't mean to keep you from your work Mister Eilerson."  
Gideon was used to Max's conceit and his voice held controlled sarcasm.  
"This won't take up too much time."  
  
Dureena smiled into her mug, amused with their antics. The verbal  
posturing approached the ridiculous at times, but Gideon allowed it   
in light of Max's expertise. Max, however hostile, survived the  
occasional deflation of his ego for the opportunity to explore new  
places. If it eventually turned a profit, he was willing to put up with  
just about anything.  
  
"You said Galen intercepted a distress call?" She got them back on  
track, preferring to head back to her quarters to rest until the time  
she normally woke in the morning, than to be stuck in a meeting.  
  
"Yes." Gideon called up the information to the main console. "He  
wasn't able to narrow it down any closer than three possible  
coordinates. I was hoping either of you have been through this sector  
and know of specific routes freighters would take."  
  
Dureena leaned forward to get a better look at the information as it  
scrolled across the screen, searching her memory for anything familiar.  
She understood Gideon's need; to cover the distance between all three  
points would take time, more time than anyone figured the pilot had.  
Names for nearby planets scrolled across in several languages, but none  
were familiar. Even trying to remember the stories she had been told in  
childhood of her race's travels across space didn't do any good.  
  
"I'm sorry, Matthew, but I've never been in this sector."  
  
"I have." Finally Max spoke up, leaning back further in his chair  
before reaching up to pinch the base of his nose to soothe an  
encroaching headache. "Well, through vids and communiqués, anyway."  
  
"And?" Gideon prodded before taking a sip of his coffee.  
  
"And, I might be able to pull some strings back at IPX headquarters to  
get you the details." Eilerson was smug; for the first time in a long  
while he had something Gideon desperately wanted. Max had no intention  
on holding onto the information indefinitely, but it was amusing to  
watch the Captain sweat.  
  
"Max, I'd appreciate it, as well as that pilot, if you would get me that  
information. Was it on one trajectory in particular?"  
  
Max pondered briefly, replaying his consultation on the expedition from  
memory. InterPlanetary Expeditions often sent out survey ships to find  
suitable planets for further exploration. Universal Terraform Company  
did the same in their quest for Quantium 40, the mineral that made jump  
gate travel possible. Casually he glanced at the screen behind Gideon  
and remembered a name.  
  
"I'm not sure which of those it is, but the survey planet was IPX22-79C,  
at least that is what it had been designated. The corresponding  
coordinates will be in the IPX report."  
  
"All right, I suppose there's not much we can do until you get me those  
reports, Mister Eilerson. As soon as you possibly can, preferably."  
  
"Of course, Captain." Max managed a smile.  
  
"Gideon, how bad off are they?" Dureena spoke up, tapping her  
fingernails gently against the ceramic mug in her hands.  
  
"I'm not sure, Dureena. All the information I have is what Galen has  
given me. But I'm not about to leave them floating out in the middle of  
nowhere, left to die." Gideon stressed, tapping a finger on the gray  
metal of the table. Dureena nodded her head, agreeing.  
  
"What's to say somebody else hasn't received this transmission and is  
intercepting?" Max questioned, playing devil's advocate.  
  
"Who's to say someone has? If anyone replied to that distress call,  
Galen would have been able to pick it up. If he can confirm someone  
has, we'll be there regardless to assist." Gideon began to feel his  
anxiety over the situation rise again and forced himself to keep it  
down, knowing that if he continued to offend Max-- however unintentional  
-- he would have a tougher time getting the information he needed. It  
wasn't a luxury Matthew had.  
  
"Where is Galen now?" Dureena asked, setting down her mug. Sitting up  
to lean against the backrest, she crossed her arms.  
  
"Good question. He took--" A double quip from the console interrupted  
Gideon, and he stood quickly, reaching for the com to accept the  
transmission.  
  
"Captain, there's a call for you." Matheson appeared on the large  
viewing console. "It's Galen."  
  
"Patch him in." The Lieutenant nodded before the screen went black.  
Moments later, Galen materialized on the screen.  
  
"Good morning, all." Galen smiled, and looked around Gideon's image at  
the others in the room. "I see you decided to try my advice, Gideon.  
Maximilian was probably still awake, but bravo on rousing Dureena."  
  
"Galen."  
  
"Yes, yes, I know. You are horribly impatient, Matthew. But  
regardless, I have been able to isolate the signal to one direction.  
Strangest thing though; there is massive interference and I'm not sure  
where it's coming from." The Technomage's brow creased in concern.  
  
"Do you think it's a trap?" Gideon hated the thought of his previous  
suspicion being right.  
  
"No, not intentionally. But our pilot may be in a plot she is unaware  
of; therefore extreme caution is warranted. I will discretely try to  
find out more information. Uploading the update to you as we speak."  
Galen leaned forward, doing something off screen. As stated, a progress  
monitor popped up, announcing the encoding of the data through the port  
into the crystal.  
  
"You know, that doesn't fill me with great confidence, you being able to  
upload any old thing to my ship, directly into a crystal port." Gideon  
stared at the port before glancing up at Galen out of the corner of his  
eye.  
  
"Oh come now, Matthew." Galen smiled, amused at the Captain's  
paranoia. "If I wanted to do damage to your systems, do you really  
think I would do it in such a trivial and uninspiring way?"  
  
"Doesn't make me any less nervous." The progress monitor finished and  
the file system on the crystal expanded beneath Galen's face. "Just the  
fact you can get into my system makes me worried."  
  
"I'll return when I have more information to upload to your poor  
unsuspecting crystal port." Galen's smile was mischievous, taking  
delight in teasing Gideon. Before the Captain could make a retort,  
Galen disappeared from view, replaced with the standby screen.  
  
"God, I hate when he does that." Turning on a heel, Gideon faced Max  
and Dureena again, shaking his head. "I guess that's all for now. Max,  
if you could get me that info A-SAP, I'd appreciate it."  
  
"Certainly, Captain."  
  
"Dismissed and thank you."  
  
Max was the first to leave, picking up his notebook and glasses before  
wandering out, leaving Dureena alone with Gideon. The Captain glanced  
down at the thief, studying the slight scowl on her face. She was  
staring absently at the brushed surface of the table.  
  
"Dureena?"  
  
"Do you think it's a deception? Maybe the Drakh trying to take out two  
targets at once?"  
  
"It's plausible." Gideon sighed, slipping back into his chair. "It  
would be a feat to lure in a ship like the Excalibur to destroy over a  
distress call. I'd hate to think they'd stoop to that low, though."  
  
"I know you want to help them, but what if it is a trap? Wouldn't it be  
better to--"  
  
"Forget about them? No Dureena, it wouldn't." A frown formed over her  
face at his sudden harshness. Noticing, Gideon breathed deeply and  
calmed himself. "I'm not satisfied with 'what ifs'. What if it's a  
trap; what if it's the Drakh; but what if Galen's suspicions are wrong?  
Do you see my point? I can't pass this by without being positive. Not  
as an Earthforce Captain and especially not as a Human. I've been  
there, Dureena. It's not a reassuring feeling to think you're going to  
die alone."  
  
"Well, just as long as I know the method to your madness." Dureena  
smiled finally, reaching forward to take her now-cold mug of coffee.  
"I'm accustomed to the idea of my own demise; it's the scenery I haven't  
quite figured out yet."  
  
"She is the best of the fleet." Gideon waved a hand in the air between  
them, a motion to mean the Excalibur. "You'll go in high style."  
  
"It would mean more if the ship was mine." Dureena shrugged, smiling  
into her mug as she finished off the last of her coffee.  
  
"Over my dead body." Matthew laughed and reached forward to grab the  
handle of the carafe. He refreshed the small amount of coffee left in  
the mug, filling it up half way.  
  
"Don't tempt me." Dureena's smile widened as she moved to stand. With  
her foot she pushed the chair back beneath the table and set her used  
mug near the commissary tray.  
  
"Even if you did kill me, Lieutenant Matheson has first dibs." Gideon  
smiled, watching as she mocked disappointment. Turning to go, her face  
became serious again.  
  
"Keep me in the loop if you would, Gideon."  
  
"Sure thing, Dureena. Thanks again." Gideon watched as she nodded and  
walked out of the conference room. Spinning around the chair, he faced  
the console and checked the new upload. Galen had just provided a set  
of coordinates, nothing else. No new status changes for the freighter.  
The Captain frowned, wishing he had more to go by, but he was thankful  
for what information the Technomage had managed to gather.  
  
"Gideon to Matheson." Depressing the link on his com bracelet, Matthew  
waited for the Lieutenant to answer.  
  
"Matheson. Go, Captain."  
  
"I've just received an update on the distress call. Transferring new  
coordinates to helm. Please adjust course and set for safest speed."  
Gideon's right hand quickly tapped in a brief string of commands, almost  
instantaneously sending the Lieutenant the corrections. Until he knew  
more, the Captain would have to remain happy traveling in normal space,  
perhaps giving the scanners a chance to pick up on the signal.  
  
"Received. Adjusting course and safest speed, aye sir."  
  
"Gideon out." Pressing the link once more, Matthew ended the call and  
turned back to his coffee, cradling the mug in his hands as he leaned  
back in his chair.  
  
"Just hang on, Toledo. We're coming." Closing his eyes, Gideon spoke  
to the air.  
  



	4. 

Last Call -- Chapter 4: Small Amusements  
  
  
  
A neon green wire frame of the EAS Toledo spun slowly in midair,  
projected from the blueprints uploaded to the map room. An oval dais  
held the projection unit and its lighted top illuminated the paper  
blueprints scrolled open. Two empty mugs stolen from the conference  
room and a palmtop computer weighted down the corners. Captain Gideon's  
hand kept the fourth corner down as he glanced back and forth between  
the blueprints and the 3-D display.  
  
The Toledo was simple in its design; a saucer-like unit for command and  
the modest crew quarters, immediately flanked by three long tubular  
sections stacked like a collapsed tripod along the core. Quad engines  
powered the craft and make it jump gate capable, but nothing guarded it  
against attack. Freighters didn't have weapons as a rule, relying on  
escort ships for defense of its cargo, especially if the cargo was  
expensive or in great need.  
  
A rustle of paper made Gideon look up from the plans, his eyes leveling  
on an engineering tech in discussion with Lieutenant Matheson as they  
walked in from command. The tech was Jaime Gomez, that much the Captain  
knew. Gomez was in his late fifties or early sixties, silver taking  
over nearly all of the dark hair of his mustache and short crew cut.  
Dressed in utility overalls flecked with grease and dust, they held the  
insignia of Chief, a position that oversaw the rest of the engineering  
staff.  
  
"Find something, Mister Gomez?" Gideon looked on expectantly as the  
tech thumbed through his papers, assisted by Matheson to bring them to  
the dais.  
  
"I've gone over every speck of equipment the Toledo was packed with, and  
not much of that would have remained through the decommission process.  
I don't know what could be used to track her. She has a standard drive  
with standard emissions like thousands of other Earthforce ships. And  
because she's not a tactical craft, her com systems would have been  
standardized with just a few modifications to encode or decode gold  
channel signals. That section would have been stripped first.  
  
"She was built to be low key-like a space-faring pachyderm-carry cargo,  
a minimal complement of crew, and enough fuel to take her half-way  
around the universe. The drive cores were immense…." Gomez paused,  
lifting a hand to rub the side of his thumb along the corner of his  
mustache. Thin eyebrows knitted together as he thought, his eyes  
unseeing as he stared absently at the dais.  
  
"Mister Gomez?"  
  
"Captain, you said she was leaking radiation?"  
  
"That's what the distress call stated anyway, but the pilot said levels  
were low."  
  
"That was most likely an internal reading. Unless there was a hull  
breech in command," Gomez pointed to the saucer-like section, "not much  
more than normal levels would be observed. That whole area is  
shielded."  
  
"But if there was a hull breech in the engine section, radiation would  
filling the immediate area." Gideon continued, pointing to the engines  
as he circled his finger around the hind end of the display.  
  
"And by what Lieutenant Matheson tells me about the interference, that  
could be the cause." Gomez nodded his head. "But I'm afraid that will  
only work under closer range. There's too much additional radiation out  
here to reliably try to track a leak plume from one particular ship."  
  
"What amounts of radiation are we talking?"  
  
"Depends on the severity of the breech. Could be just a few parts per  
million to several billion parts. Although if the engines were really  
damaged, I doubt the crew would be around to send a distress call."  
  
"How come?" Gideon lifted his hand from the blueprint as he crossed his  
arms over his chest, keeping a hip against the dais for balance.  
  
"If there was a good breech to the engine core, the ship would have  
blown nearly instantaneously."  
  
"So it's a slow leak and one that is nearly impossible to trace."  
Gideon didn't look happy.  
  
"Correct, Captain. I'm sorry it's not what you wanted to hear." Gomez  
shrugged, slipping his papers back into their folder. When finished, he  
tucked it beneath his arm.  
  
"No, that's all right. You've helped me the best you could, Mister  
Gomez. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome, Captain. Let me know if I can be of any further  
assistance."  
  
With a nod, Gideon dismissed the engineer and turned back to the  
display. Playfully he poked his finger into the shape. The image  
dispersed briefly from the disruption, but quickly reformed the wire  
frame. Even though the items on the counter's surface blocked the  
projector, the display could be sent though it all depending on  
thickness and content. Matthew's hand was merely a small dispersion of  
the signal as it found its way either through or around the tissue and  
bone. He could barely feel the tingling sensation of the power; just a  
slight tickling itched his skin. With a gentle strum of his fingers,  
the image rippled again but did not disappear, having discovered the  
frequency to project through living flesh.  
  
"Captain, should I adjust the scanners to pick up on the fuel core  
emissions anyway?" Matheson stood at Gideon's right, watching as the  
Captain played with the projection.  
  
"Negative. Gomez believes we are too far away for it to be any good.  
We'll just have to head in the general direction that Galen told us and  
hope more clues are forthcoming." Done with amusing himself, Gideon  
shut off the projection.  
  
They scrolled the blueprints again, removing the weights. The  
Lieutenant received his palmtop back and Gideon took the two mugs in his  
hand, the ceramic chiming softly as they gently collided. Taking a half  
dozen steps to the closed doors of the conference room, Matthew pressed  
a sensor on the key pad. The dual doors of the pocket hatch slid open,  
revealing the empty room. The coffee carafe and tray from earlier had  
been removed, and along with it, all the mugs. Gideon looked at the  
bare table and frowned.  
  
"Lieutenant, since when has the commissary staff been so efficient?"  
The Captain called over his shoulder.  
  
"Sir, it has been three hours since you requested the coffee. I'm sure  
they felt you were done with it." Matheson's smile barely curled his  
lips as he watched Gideon sigh. The Captain turned on a heel and  
shrugged, walking back into the map room.  
  
"I guess I'll take them back and get something to eat while I'm at it."  
Gideon's stomach growled in agreement, having gone too long between  
meals. Dinner the previous night had come and gone before Gideon  
realized he had missed it, his concentration on reports that were past  
due.  
  
"Might I suggest the oatmeal, sir?" Matheson's smile widened as he  
presented his usual take on the morning's fare. Gideon had relieved the  
Lieutenant of his duties before Gomez made his report, knowing the first  
officer could use a break. Gideon's expression soured at his dim  
prospects for a decent breakfast.  
  
"That bad?" Matheson nodded bleakly in response. "I guess I could  
always find a few toast crusts to gnaw on if I have to."  
  
"It might be better now, sir, with the shift change."  
  
"Here's hoping." Gideon started walking into command, towards the  
corridor and hatch that would take him to the below decks, but  
Matheson's hand moving to the com at his ear made him pause. The  
Lieutenant looked vacantly at the floor as he concentrated on the  
message he was receiving.  
  
"Don't tell me I'm going to have to go without breakfast, Lieutenant.  
It's the most important meal of the day and you know what I'm like if I  
don't get a good breakfast." Gideon's annoyance was fringed with  
sarcasm as he raised his hand with the mugs to shake a finger at  
Matheson.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, but communications is picking up on something."  
Matheson's eyebrows lifted in surprise as the final half of the message  
came though. "It's possibly the Toledo."  
  
"Why didn't you say so?" Quickly Gideon moved to the command chair,  
handing off the mugs to a passing junior officer. Without questioning,  
he took the mugs from the Captain, confused as to why he was receiving  
them.  
  
"Analysis shows they are similar to the signals Galen received. Playing  
amplified message now, sir." At Matheson's order, static filled  
command, punctuated by brief lapses in signal. The technicians were  
already working to clean up the transmission and slowly the white noise  
disappeared into a muffled voice. Even through the interference, it was  
the same as the one Galen had recorded.  
  
"Are we too far out of range to send a reply?"  
  
"Not sure, sir. We could make the attempt."  
  
"Yes. Record the following message-Excalibur to Toledo. Message  
received and attempting to intercept. Advise on current status. End."  
Gideon waited for the communications officer to end the recording.  
"Send out in five minute intervals and keep the line open in case they  
try to reply on the same frequency."  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
The ball hung in the air before him, its red polished surface reflecting  
a trace amount of light from the power globe above his head. With  
hardly a thought, he made it spin on an imaginary axis, to revolve at a  
lumbering pace. A second ball came into existence beside its twin and  
its revolution began counterclockwise. As the two red balls spun in  
opposite directions, a third came into being, this time white with a  
green stripe along its longitudinal circumference.  
  
Within his mind's eye, Galen controlled each ball with a long-practiced  
technique, honed to perfection. It didn't take much for the balls to  
remain separate in his mind, his thoughts repeating each conjured  
equation for size, shape, and motion to all the objects as they spun and  
hovered in the air.  
  
Releasing a deep breath, he added another equation that sent the red  
balls spinning in an upright figure eight while the white ball circled  
around the mid point. It gave the conjuring the appearance of a double  
handled globe when the objects moved fast enough that his eyes couldn't  
differentiate the shapes. Concentrating on the white and green ball, he  
added the equation for color change on those for size, shape, and  
motion, allowing the center to fade into purple, then orange, then  
yellow, and finally back to purple.  
  
Beyond the dizzying pace of the conjured objects before him, Galen  
accessed his ship's scanners though the connection made by his implants,  
and monitored the incoming information. Internal consoles appeared  
beside the conjured images, scrolling information from the external  
sensors and the thousands of probes he had planted in various areas  
throughout the Excalibur. Bullet cars, corridors, transport tubes,  
tactical stations, and even the cleaning crew's cart weren't free from  
the nanoprobes that remained like silent sentinels over the crew.  
  
He accessed a favored probe, giving him a glimpse into Dureena Nafeel's  
quarters. Galen had placed it on the paneling above the vid console,  
allowing her a small amount of privacy from the short angle recording.  
Dureena sat in one of her low wooden chairs, sipping at a mug of tea  
while she read an electronic novel, using a finger to tap-scroll through  
the document on the palmtop. Not wanting his spying to approach the  
verge of voyeurism, Galen moved on, checking Medbay and Doctor Chambers  
before moving on to Max Eilerson.  
  
Paying too much attention to the probes had loosened his control on the  
balls slightly, their revolutions and spinnings beginning to degrade.  
With renewed concentration, Galen added the equation for fire, giving  
the balls the illusion of being set ablaze. The effect was spectacular;  
the conjuring was almost life-like in the level of detail Galen had put  
into it. Each flame rippled, swirling around as the balls gyrated,  
engulfing till only darkened ash was beneath.  
  
Galen accessed the probe he had placed at the foot of Gideon's chair in  
command. The angle made the Captain seem huge in appearance, towering  
above the recording, and Galen smirked. The intercepted transmission  
said the same as what the Technomage had accessed through the probe; the  
Excalibur had finally picked up the Toledo's signal for analysis. Galen  
watched as Gideon sent back a confirmation message, in hope it wasn't  
too late.  
  
"Excellent, Matthew." The Technomage commented to the objects revolving  
and burning before him. Satisfied to the degree of complexity he had  
put into the conjuring, Galen dismissed it, releasing a slow breath from  
his lips across them. Gradually the image in the air disappeared like  
grains of sand being blown from slate till the last of the ash faded  
into nothing.  
  
"I suppose now we just sit back and wait." Taking a moment to stretch  
the muscles in his neck and between his shoulders, Galen closed his eyes  
and thought of a new object to conjure, his mind deciding on one of  
Dureena's daggers.  
  
"Yes, yes, this will do nicely." Gradually the curved blade took form  
in the darkness, the light leather of the hilt imprinted with the strong  
grip of its owner. Keeping the point transfixed downward in his mind,  
Galen added the equation for circular motion and the hilt began to  
rotate in a wide ellipse, spinning like a top above its apex.  



	5. Vision or Illusion

Last Call -- Chapter 5: Vision or Illusion  
  
Author's Note: Thanks to all who have been reading!  
  
  
  
  
An annoying beep permeated her dream, growing louder until it took her  
away from sleep, forcing her awake. The beep was persistent, growing  
louder as she became conscious, demanding attention. She almost didn't  
know where she was when her eyes opened to look down the length of her  
body strapped to a wall, her feet dangling a few feet from the floor. A  
dull ache in her shoulder gave her a brief reminder.  
  
"And here I was hoping that was a dream." She mumbled to herself,  
glancing over at the cockpit and consoles, trying to see what was making  
the noise. It was too far away from her vantage point and she groaned,  
slowly becoming accustomed to being awake. Carefully she loosened the  
shoulder straps and unclasped the waistband of the harness, freeing  
herself to the zero-gee. As she turned herself out of the restraints,  
she gazed at the Minbari beside her and smiled. Despite the appearance  
of the bruises and cuts on his head and brow, he looked calm and  
peaceful as he slept. She reached out to cup the side of his face,  
gentle fingers cradling the bone above his ears. He didn't stir, his  
breathing still deep and rhythmic as she caressed his jaw with her  
thumb.  
  
"Someway, somehow, I'm going to get us out of this, Drefen." The  
beeping interrupted again, but it would have to wait a bit longer, as  
she was more concerned with the condition of her shipmates. Naomi  
turned her attention to her two wounded companions, her body drifting  
towards the cargo netting they had been enclosed in. Gently she reached  
for Daniel, resting her palm on his forehead. His body temperature was  
higher than it should have been and she frowned at the dampness of his  
skin, both indicating a possible infection. Slipping two fingers  
beneath his chin, she felt for his pulse, thankful it was still beating  
strong and steadily.  
  
Karnier stirred within her makeshift bed, her brown eyes gradually  
opening to look at Naomi. She had difficulty focusing on the human, her  
eyes blinking repeatedly until her vision cleared. Warily she smiled  
before closing her eyes again.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Naomi spoke softly, touching the Minbari's  
hand. Karnier's fingers curled around Naomi's and squeezed weakly. She  
struggled to make parched lips and a dry tongue work, her mouth moving  
slowly before it released a coarse sound.  
  
"It could be better, but I will not complain." She replied in Religious  
caste dialect before managing another anemic smile. "How are the  
others?"  
  
"Daniel has some internal bruises as well as a few broken ribs. Drefen  
probably sustained a concussion and has a few cuts on his head." Naomi  
glanced at the others before turning her attention back to Karnier.  
  
"And you?"  
  
"My shoulder was dislocated, but Drefen was able to set it." Karnier's  
eyes opened briefly, focusing on the sling cradling Naomi's left arm and  
nodded her head slightly. "Is there anything you need? Food or water?"  
  
"Water, if you would, please?" Naomi nodded and reached for an access  
panel, a wedged foot beneath a latch keeping her steady as she opened it  
with a press against the latch mechanism. Reaching in, she removed a  
small foil pouch and held it by the corner between her teeth as she  
closed the hatch. Repositioning it, she bit down on the small valve  
that kept the item preserved and pulled, removing the seal. A gentle  
squeeze sent water though the stem towards the second valve near the  
opening that kept the contents from accidentally leaking out. Placing  
it near Karnier's lips, she waited for the Minbari to take it into her  
mouth.  
  
"I will attend to Karnier if you find out what that beeping is about."  
Drefen's groggy voice from behind startled Naomi, his body brushing by  
hers in the small space to brace himself nearby the injured Minbari.  
His hand took the water pack from Naomi's as he looked over his shoulder  
to nod at command behind her.  
  
"Sure thing. Thanks." Pushing off, Naomi floated towards the cockpit,  
trying not to overshoot the chair. It took a few minutes of maneuvering  
to strap herself down, freeing her hand to work the consoles. The  
signal was coming from the communications computer, indicating there was  
an incoming transmission.  
  
"We have an incoming message and I think it might be in response to our  
distress call." Naomi spoke over her shoulder to Drefen.  
  
"What does it say?"  
  
"Not sure yet. Let me play it." Turning back to the console she spoke  
to the com. "Computer, receive and play message."  
  
A monotone voice replied, reciting her command before it complied, a  
loud burst of static coming though the speakers. It didn't sound like  
anything more than interference.  
  
"Computer, can the signal be cleaned up any?" Naomi frowned, gazing out  
into the sea of stars beyond the canopy.  
  
"Define."  
  
"Attenuate and reduce noise levels then replay." The computer took  
several minutes to comply, resetting logarithms and decibels before  
rescanning for a cleaner play. The short wait seemed brutally long as  
she watched the mesmerizing stars glisten. A distant movement caught  
her eye, distorting her view of a few stars, and caused her to question  
her vision. Blinking slowly to refocus her eyes, Naomi opened them and  
the stars had returned. Another crackle of static startled her, its  
volume significantly reduced, serving to clear the signal only  
slightly. There were definite undercurrents that fluctuated beneath the  
static and she strained to hear them.  
  
"Computer, amplify on the negative to positive twenty decibel range.  
Lower distortion and increase modulation in this range." It once again  
paused to comply and Naomi busied herself with trying to access the  
broken nav com. Unlike the consoles around it, the panel was darkened  
and without power to light up the interactive face. A steady pound with  
the side of her fist didn't help either. Shrugging in disappointment,  
Naomi picked at a recessed groove around the console with a fingernail.  
  
A hollow male voice filled command, sounding like he was speaking from a  
great distance. Static still crackled the signal above a constant hiss  
and Naomi's heart quickened at the sound of another voice in the void of  
space.  
  
"Drefen, it's the Excalibur!" The Minbari shared her enthusiasm, a  
smile widening his lips. "They're attempting to intercept and want an  
update on status."  
  
"Let us not keep them waiting." Naomi nodded in agreement, turning back  
to the console as her fingers skimmed across a few controls.  
  
"Toledo to Excalibur." Naomi glanced at the life support com before  
checking the other systems. "Message received. We have two critically  
wounded. Approximately four hours of life support. Nav com down and  
cannot advise on coordinates. Best guess is the Ghayn system. End."  
Removing her finger from the transmit toggle, she listened as the com  
played it again for her before waiting for the second command that would  
relay the message.  
  
"Computer, repeat at five minute intervals until a reply is received."  
From the amount of static that needed to be cleaned from the message, it  
meant they were still a good distance away, and how far away Naomi  
didn't know. She could only pray that it was a small enough distance  
that could be crossed within four hours.  
  
She rested her elbow on the console, her thoughts focusing on the  
situation as she gazed at the stars again. Cradling her chin in her  
hand, Naomi began to think about the possible rescue, their cargo, and  
what she could sacrifice to either give the craft a push or to extend  
life support. As it was, she had reduced the oxygen output to the least  
amount within safety limits, leaving them light headed if any strenuous  
activity was performed. Once she received confirmation that rescue was  
really on the way, she would override the controls and limit the oxygen  
release even further in attempt to extend it for as long as possible.  
  
Stars within her line of sight disappeared again, and she closed her  
eyes tight, opening them slowly. It was well within the realm of  
possibilities that the lack of oxygen was making her hallucinate, but  
she didn't have the usual symptoms associated with oxygen deprivation.  
  
"Computer, magnify upper right quadrant of display." Concentrating on  
the spot, she began a silent count, waiting for the stars to reappear.  
  
"Unable to comply. External sensors are inoperable."  
  
Nearly fifteen seconds went by before she saw the stars again. The  
Toledo's drifting pattern couldn't explain why the stars seemed to wink  
in and out of existence as she watched, unless there was something  
within her line of sight.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" Drefen drifted towards her, his hand  
reaching out for the copilot's chair as a brace. Carefully he lowered  
himself into the chair and strapped himself in.  
  
"Not sure yet." Naomi frowned, wishing the ship still had some external  
sensors. "How's Karnier?"  
  
"Doing much better now that she is conscious. Her chances for survival  
have improved significantly."  
  
"Good. One less thing we have to worry about."  
  
Drefen turned his head to look at Naomi, noticing the frown of confusion  
on her face. Her lips were moving slightly as she concentrated on the  
view beyond the canopy. Her hand had made a loose fist as her thumbnail  
began to pick at a callous on her middle finger. Naomi's lips paused  
briefly before the tip of her tongue slid across them, her frown finally  
deepening into a grimace.  
  
"Naomi, what is it?"  
  
"Do we still have those long-range monoculars with the ultraviolet and  
infrared settings?" She didn't look at him, just continued to stare out  
into the stars.  
  
"I believe so. They should be stored up here." Carefully the Minbari  
reached over to a storage compartment beside his chair along the wall.  
Pressing the hatch to open it, he pulled open the small door and reached  
in, pushing aside the other items stashed within. A few attempted  
escape, drifting through the zero-gee, but he carefully pushed them back  
in after taking out the monoculars.  
  
"Care to tell me what this is about?" He handed them to Naomi and  
watched as she raised them to her face with one hand, adjusting the  
width for the space between her eyes with a press against her nose.  
Instead of two separate series of lenses for each eye, there was a dual  
view, reflected into a projection for both eyes. With her thumb, Naomi  
toggled the power switch, the projection coming to life with various  
scale and range functions displaying data below the image. Slowly she  
increased the magnification by rotating a preset dial, bringing into  
range what she had been trying to see. A vague shape masked the bright  
illumination from the stars and with apprehension she fine-tuned the  
image. Only a faint outline was visible, sharp edges and angles  
protruding like those of an insect's exoskeleton.  
  
A toggle of another switch gave her ultraviolet vision as the monoculars  
converted the signal into the visible spectrum. Hues ranging from light  
lavenders to deep purples and blues defined the hull further as it  
reflected, the metal fluorescing in the radiation. The shape was  
unmistakable.  
  
"Aw hell." Naomi lowered the monoculars, resting them against her chin.  
  
"What is it? Another ship?"  
  
"Yeah," Naomi turned towards Drefen, the concern clear in her features,  
"A Drakh fighter. And when there's one, there's usually more."  
  
"May I see?" The Minbari reached out his hand.  
  
"Sure. It's off the starboard bow. I noticed it when a few stars  
winked out." She pointed to the space beyond the canopy with the  
monoculars before she handed them to him.  
  
"I see it." He adjusted the focus for his eyes. "Unfortunately we  
can't get a distance reading."  
  
"No, there's nothing between us to gauge the reading on. Although the  
range on those monoculars are about fifteen miles and they're nearly  
maxed out to get the ship in focus."  
  
"I think we may have unwillingly become the - how do you say, cheese in  
the mousetrap?" Drefen lowered the monoculars to his lap and turned  
once again to Naomi. His eyes widened, betraying his atypical lack of  
inner calm.  
  
"And the mouse in this case is the Excalibur. We're going to have to  
alert them somehow without the Drakh figuring it out. Have any  
suggestions?"  
  
"I suggest that we should wait until they are further within  
communications range so that our warning is clear. Perhaps there is an  
unofficial code we could use to alert them to the situation?" Drefen  
questioned. "You were in Earthforce at one time and this is an  
Earthforce ship."  
  
"Yes, but communications of those type were encrypted and sent on  
specific channels. The Toledo no longer has that function since being  
decommissioned." Naomi managed to smile, reaching over to pat the  
Minbari's shoulder. "I do have an idea though."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I wonder how much the captain of the Excalibur knows about fishing."  
  
"Fishing?" Drefen looked perplexed.  
  
"Yes, fishing."  
  
  



	6. Trust and Obfuscations

Last Call -- Chapter 6: Trust and Obfuscations  
  
Author's Note: A little behind due to some technical difficulties with my computer. I might have taken a bit of creative license with Lt. Matheson's past, but I call them as I see them.  
  
  
  
Tilting his head, John Matheson pressed his right ear to his shoulder, a  
loud pop resonating; the motion relieved the tension in his neck as the  
vertebrae realigned themselves. Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested  
his head against the transport tube wall, placing his hands on the rail  
behind his waist. He felt the vibrations as the tube rose though the  
decks, taking him back towards the bridge and command.  
  
Matheson had gone for a walk down to Medlab to update Doctor Chambers on  
the situation and to find out what else she needed to know about the  
crew of the Toledo. It could have easily been done by com, but  
occasionally the Lieutenant felt the need to catch a few minutes alone.  
He was used to the murmur of minds among the officers that manned  
command, but the constant control he had to place on his telepathic  
abilities created a strain. It was even greater during times of stress  
for the crew and with the impending rescue attempt, he wanted to be able  
to focus his mind as much as possible.  
  
John often found it relaxing to wander the ship at night while the  
skeleton crew worked. After checking in on the shifts he supervised, he  
would make his rounds, inspecting the cargo and docking bays before  
wandering through the empty decks. Seldom did he run into others on the  
bullet cars and in the transport tubes, and he enjoyed the nighttime  
telepathic stillness that gave him a chance to lessen the hold he had  
placed on his mental shields.  
  
It had taken him a long time to get used to the lack of gloves with his  
new uniform. He had been absorbed into the Psi Corps when his so called  
talents had surfaced, forced to wear the black leather gloves,  
suffocatingly static suit, and the copper-silver badge that seemed  
permanently emblazoned on his left chest. What choice did he have if it  
was the law? But all he wanted since childhood was to be in Earthforce,  
see the stars and to explore. John was an intelligent man who could  
have easily earned a commission, but telepaths weren't allowed to  
serve. Bias and fear left him with the only choice-- serving the Psi  
Corps. Instead of exploring the stars, he was for hire like so many  
others at his level, used for his abilities to sense the truth in  
thoughts and feelings.  
  
Times changed. With the Telepath Wars, he began to see what the  
rebellion had exposed; a conglomeration of despots that wanted power and  
control no matter the cost. He had believed that the insurrection was  
wrong since the Psi Corps gave telepaths a sense of belonging and a  
home, but when he saw evidence that they were killing their own, his  
views changed. What made the Corps' actions justified in comparison to  
those of the rogues'?  
  
He knew that the base he was stationed at was going to be destroyed, but  
he didn't care. John felt betrayed both in trust and in his heart by  
how the Corps had lied to him. Only later did the guilt surface,  
ashamed that he had let those men and women die, despite their actions.  
And the guilt only grew when he was rewarded with what he so desperately  
craved-- a chance to enter Earthforce.  
  
Matheson excelled without much effort, graduating with honors from the  
Academy to be offered a commission as an officer. Even though the  
gloves and psi-dampening suit had come off, he still felt isolated from  
'normals' frightened that he would scan them or accidentally pick up on  
their thoughts. A constant reminder of his situation was embroidered on  
his arm, less conspicuous than the shiny badge he once wore, but present  
none the less. The accomplishment was bittersweet even after he had  
been assigned his first duty under the command of Captain Matthew Gideon  
on the EA explorer, Phoenix.  
  
Gideon had his own reputation as a potential hot head and a gambler, and  
above all else, not one to bow to authority. His warm welcome amazed  
Matheson, as if the young man was being accepted into a mutual club for  
those cast-off and overlooked. The Captain never asked him to bend the  
rules or intruded into his personal life, unlike so many others he had  
trained with. Gideon told him frankly he didn't care if the Lieutenant  
could read every thought in his head, Matheson was trusted until he  
proved otherwise. John agreed and not only kept the promise for  
himself, but for other telepaths who only wanted something better than  
the Psi Corps.  
  
At the same time, Gideon had to live up to the trust Matheson placed in  
him. The Lieutenant had been betrayed by those in power before, and  
even if this Captain didn't fit the typical Earthforce mold, he was  
still human and susceptible to fault. To the day, Gideon hadn't let him  
down, his reputation changing in Matheson's eyes to a man who took  
carefully calculated risks for what he felt was just for himself and the  
crew he commanded, regardless of the political byline.  
  
Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, Matheson accidentally brushed  
against the com positioned at his left ear. The small device gave him  
instant access to all departments and to the major communications hubs  
around the ship. It was on a different system than the com bracelets  
with built in redundancies that would allow him access to the to the  
central computer directly without a need for a console. Toggle switches  
were mounded to the counter weight arched behind his ear, giving him a  
variety of ways to receive and transmit information by voice command.  
It was easy to forget he was wearing it, long since used to its  
presence.  
  
A slight shutter in the tube made him realize that his ride was to  
momentarily pause for someone else to board. Making himself  
presentable, Matheson pushed himself off from the wall and opened his  
eyes. Lastly he clasped the rail with one hand while the other gently  
fisted at his thigh. The doors opened with a quiet hush and revealed  
Dureena Nafeel standing patiently in wait. She uncrossed her arms and  
nodded at him as she stepped into the tube.  
  
"Lieutenant Matheson."  
  
"Miss Nafeel."  
  
They exchanged greetings as Dureena moved to grasp the rail near him,  
her other hand resting at her hip. John continued to stare at the door  
hatch, aware that she was studying him, and from his peripheral vision,  
he watched as the woman smiled.  
  
"Is that thing permanently attached to your head?" Dureena teased,  
watching as Matheson struggled to keep his face straight.  
  
"I had Doctor Chambers glue it in my ear to save time." Glancing down  
at her, the Lieutenant finally smiled, bowing his head in slight  
embarrassment from the attention. He raised a hand to his face to  
smooth his thumb and forefinger across his brow.  
  
"I thought so. I don't think I've ever seen you without that com  
link." Dureena spoke like it was a challenge, giving him an evaluating  
look-over. He knew she was baiting him, and how far he wanted to play  
along was his decision. John could politely refuse or give in, knowing  
his unwillingness would only encourage her teasing further. Dureena had  
always seen him calm and reserved, and the more comfortable he became  
with her, the more likely he was to show her he had more beneath the  
surface. Gingerly he reached for his left ear, carefully unhooking the  
com to hold in his hand. He turned to face Dureena and smiled widely.  
  
"Are you satisfied? Can I put it back on before I have a break-down?"  
  
Dureena laughed in reply, leaning back against the rail and reached out  
with a hand to rest it on his forearm. He began to laugh with her,  
slightly shocked that her touch didn't seem to betray any of her  
thoughts. Usually unwelcome touch overwhelmed his mind shields,  
unprepared for the sudden flow of emotions. Dureena's mind was  
different, her reserved nature preventing the projection of her feelings  
unless she wanted them to. What she did project was comforting to  
Matheson; her playfulness and laughter making him respond in kind.  
  
"Yes Lieutenant, we wouldn't want that." Just as suddenly as she  
touched him, Dureena removed her hand.  
  
"Thank you." Matheson replaced the com and relaxed happily, eliciting a  
few giggles from the thief. Slowly her demeanor changed, the smile  
fading from her face.  
  
"Have you heard anything more about the ship that sent the distress  
call?" The tunnel car slowed and stopped at its final destination.  
After the hatch slid open, the Lieutenant indicated with a motion of his  
hand for Dureena to lead. She stepped out into the corridor and waited,  
walking with Matheson towards command.  
  
"Yes." John nodded, his head turning slightly as he glanced at her.  
"We just received the same transmission Galen intercepted. It was  
severely distorted but still recognizable. Captain Gideon has already  
sent a reply."  
  
"I hope we can get to them in time and that there aren't any surprises.  
For Gideon's sake, anyway." The hallway narrowed, enough that they  
could no longer walk side by side. This time Dureena motioned for the  
Lieutenant to go first as the walkway inclined slightly before entering  
the bridge.  
  
"I hope so too." They moved towards Gideon, stationed in his chair as  
he gazed out through the main viewing console into the sea of stars.  
Matthew slouched slightly, his left elbow on the armrest as he chewed  
absently at the side of his thumb. His other hand curled over his left  
ankle as it crossed over a knee. Slowly Gideon glanced over one  
shoulder then the other as Dureena and Matheson came to a rest on either  
side.  
  
"Did you go back to bed?" He smirked at Dureena.  
  
"I tried and failed. Caught up on some reading instead." She sighed  
and rested her hand against the back of his chair as she lifted a foot  
to place on the small pedestal beneath it. The thief enjoyed the view  
as much as the Captain; she never could get over the serenity of space.  
  
"Anything good?"  
  
"Just an electronic novel I downloaded from Max's personal stash." She  
shrugged.  
  
"I can't imagine Max having any interesting reading material."  
  
"About as interesting as his vid collection." Gideon would have sworn  
he had seen a blush color Dureena's tan cheeks, but kept the impression  
to himself, turning his attention to his first officer.  
  
"Has Doctor Chambers been apprised of the situation?"  
  
"Yes sir." The Lieutenant stood at ease, his hands resting at his  
sides. "Triage is prepared for the Toledo's wounded. She would like to  
know the extent of their injuries if possible so she can be better  
prepared."  
  
"Sounds reasonable enough. I'm hoping we can get further within range  
so the lapse between transmissions isn't as great." Gideon finally sat  
up, lowering his crossed leg to set the foot on the pedestal beneath the  
chair. He wove his fingers together, then turned his palms out,  
stretching his arms straight in front of himself.  
  
"Speaking of Max, do you know if he managed to contact IPX?" Gideon  
looked back at Dureena and she shook her head.  
  
"I haven't seen him since this morning, well, earlier this morning,  
anyway." She leered at the Captain, and he grinned sheepishly in  
return.  
  
"Gideon to Eilerson." Matthew raised his left wrist to his mouth and  
depressed a switch on his com bracelet.  
  
"Yes, Captain?" A mildly harried xenoarchaeologist entered command,  
answering the com page in person. "Before you ask, yes I did get a copy  
of that expedition report."  
  
Gideon stood and habitually straightened his uniform as he turned to  
face Eilerson. Max had groomed since their earlier meeting, no doubt  
for his conference call. He had showered and put on a freshly pressed  
dark suit, the circular silver IPX badge pinned on his right lapel.  
Max's hand brushed against the suit coat as he reached into his pants'  
pocket to pull out a data crystal. He held it with two fingers at the  
top and his thumb beneath the point, twisting it slightly to watch the  
light reflect off the prism edges.  
  
"It was in the Ghayn system, although I can't understand why. There's  
nothing more than a few nondescript planets with very little cultural  
significance. It's not exactly my first choice for places to stop amid  
hyperspace travel." The crystal waved while Max talked, his hand  
expressing his words with a slight flick back and forth of his wrist.  
  
"Thank you for the information." Gideon took a few steps forward,  
reaching out as Max handed over the data crystal. "And for the  
commentary."  
  
The barb didn't go unnoticed. Max frowned slightly in distaste before  
passing it off as Earthforce's usual lack of social grace and the  
Captain's typical mockery of his talents. Feathers only slightly  
ruffled, Eilerson straightened, both hands slipping into his pockets.  
  
Dureena took a moment to glance at Max, not trying to hide her  
amusement. In return, he shot her a contemptuous look, waiting while  
Gideon lowered the console from over his chair. He turned the display  
so he wouldn't have to sit down again, conferring with Matheson on the  
schematics.  
  
"It says here that there's a jump gate near the gaseous planet with the  
two moons, but it's not marked as one placed there by Earthforce."  
Gideon tapped the display with a finger.  
  
"An original gate, sir?" Matheson asked, studying the chart. The small  
system comprised of five planets in orbit around a small sun, the  
largest a gaseous planet with asteroid satellites trapped in its gravity  
field. The jump gate hung near by, once used for travel and commerce by  
the system before the worlds had died, their populations now extinct.  
  
"I think so." Gideon chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think  
about what would have made the Toledo go to that system. It was an easy  
diversion from the standard hyperspace routes in the case of emergency  
or needed repairs. If the craft had sustained damages, a smart pilot  
wouldn't attempt repair in hyperspace unless it was absolutely  
necessary.  
  
"It would probably be safe to assume that they haven't strayed far from  
the gate, probably in the hope that they could get back through it. A  
good search area would be within ten clicks of the gate in this  
direction." Matthew indicated with two fingers the path, sweeping out  
from the front of the jumpgate.  
  
"I agree. Should I get an ETA for the system, sir?" Matheson watched  
the other items pop up on the screen as Gideon sifted through the rest  
of the data crystal.  
  
"If you would. The info will be useful once we get a reply message back  
from the Toledo. If they can confirm that it is indeed the Ghayn  
system, we'll open up a jump point and head there." The Lieutenant  
nodded and turned, moving towards navigations to make the calculation.  
  
Eilerson strolled around command, observing, noticing, studying console  
lines and the shape of the characteristics. The Excalibur bridge had  
been laid out like a submarine's, a linear design as opposed to the  
circular pit of other Earthforce ships. Homogenized from Minbari,  
Vorlon, and Earth technology, it had characteristics that were uniquely  
its own, down to the metal and tiles that comprised the floor. Metals  
were almost crystalline, opalescent under the power lights that ran in  
tracks on the ceiling. Panels and walls had a texture that was  
different from the usual, flowing into an accent of color or a line of  
conduit. Despite the criticism that the ship was sterile and severe,  
its simplicity was feminine, consisting more of curves unlike the blocky  
edges of most destroyers. To Max, it felt more like a home to him than  
the other ships he had been on in his life.  
  
It was something he enjoyed almost every time he came to command. More  
than anything else, Eilerson did it because it annoyed Gideon to see the  
xenoarchaeologist posing like a lord over a ship that wasn't his. For  
every time Gideon did something to rile him, Eilerson returned the  
gesture, and his leisurely saunter served that purpose. Max could feel  
the Captain's eyes on him as he walked around Dureena, revolving a slow  
circle in front of the entry to the map room, past work stations and  
personnel, before coming to a stop beside Gideon at his chair.  
  
"Find anything you like, Mister Eilerson?" Matthew spoke nonchalantly,  
returning his attention to the console display.  
  
"You'd be the first to know if I didn't, Captain." Max's right hand  
slid from his pocket and stretched across the backrest of the chair  
towards Dureena's as he crossed his feet at the ankles. "By the way,  
that information didn't come for free. IPX is expecting a little  
reimbursement in the form of some leeway on our next cultural find."  
  
"What? You did explain to them that this is for a humanitarian mission  
to answer a distress call, didn't you?" Gideon turned, his eyes  
narrowing at the xenoarchaeologist.  
  
"Of course." Max's smile was plastic. "But it's expensive to keep  
records on each and every expedition. They can't fund them for free,  
you know."  
  
"Like IPX doesn't make back their money in profits from exploiting dead  
cultures?"  
  
"Studying yes, exploiting no."  
  
"Gentlemen, please." Dureena stepped forward, positioning herself at  
the armrest of the chair opposite the two. She looked at the men  
standing face to face, posturing shamelessly.  
  
"What kind of pod do they grow people like you in, Max?" Gideon shook  
his head in disgust. "I'm trying to save lives and IPX wants to turn a  
profit."  
  
"Max, Gideon, enough. This is way past being old." Finally she was  
able to interrupt.  
  
"He started it." Gideon's finger lifted to point accusingly at  
Eilerson. The xenoarchaeologist rolled his eyes and shook his head,  
turning away from Gideon with a sardonic snort. Dureena mirrored Max,  
but didn't turn from the Captain, showing her disapproval in her stare.  
  
"Sir, we're getting a new incoming message." Matheson's interruption  
was perfectly timed, gaining Gideon's attention immediately. "It's the  
Toledo again. The signal is much cleaner."  
  
"Any more information included?" Gideon removed the data crystal from  
the console and returned it to the overhead canopy.  
  
"Two critically wounded aboard. Approximately four hours life support  
left. Nav com is down but she suspects they are in the Ghayn system.  
Looks like we were right on track, sir."  
  
"Open a channel. Time to see if we can't connect with them in real  
time." Matheson spoke into his com at Gideon's command, finally  
signaling the open channel with a thumbs-up. Gideon slipped back into  
his chair, accidentally brushing his elbow over Dureena's hands on the  
armrest. He touched her forearm in apology as she took a few steps away  
from the chair. She took position behind Gideon next to Max, crossing  
her arms over her chest in her usual stance of anticipation.  
  
"Excalibur to the freighter Toledo. Are you receiving?" Gideon tapped  
a tattoo on the armrest with his fingernails while he waited, glancing  
briefly at the Lieutenant who still had his hand to his ear. Matheson  
shrugged and shook his head. Matthew frowned and lifted his hand to  
swipe beneath his chin, indicating to cut the signal.  
  
"They could be still deciphering our message through the static, sir.  
Our coms system is a bit more powerful."  
  
"Is there any way we can boost our signal to help on their end?" Gideon  
stroked his lower lip with his thumb, trying to think of ways to better  
communications with the Toledo.  
  
"Not without knowing the tolerances of their system, sir. If we sent  
our message out in a direct concentrated pulse, there's a possibility we  
could short out their system."  
  
"Don't want to do that." Gideon fidgeted again and silently wondered  
why things couldn't be easy. "Patience may be a virtue, but I seem to  
be running short on it this week. Have I told you lately how much I  
hate waiting?"  
  
Matheson smirked but didn't answer Gideon's rhetorical question.  
Dureena wasn't so kind, mumbling something under her breath that only  
Max was able to hear. He answered with a laugh, stopping instantly when  
Gideon swiveled in his chair to glare at them. His face told them both  
they were beginning to outstay their welcome, and Dureena muttered an  
apology.  
  
Static crackled through the air and Gideon's head whipped back to look  
at Matheson. The Lieutenant was nodding, speaking into his com as he  
directed the attempt to clean up the signal.  
  
"Toledo to Excalibur, message received. Having some difficulties  
cleaning up the static, but I think I have the computer accustomed to  
handling it." The pilot's voice answered, fluctuating through the  
interference.  
  
"Toledo, we follow. Can you give an update on your wounded?" There was  
an additional time lapse during transmission and Gideon waited,  
motioning for the Lieutenant to come closer. Matheson did as  
instructed, stepping towards Gideon's chair.  
  
"Any word on how long it will take for us to get to the Ghayn system?"  
  
"No, sir. I'll check again."  
  
"Excalibur, we have two critically wounded of a four-person crew; a  
Minbari female with a broken arm and leg, and a Human male with broken  
ribs, internal bruising, and a fever. My co-pilot has sustained a  
concussion and has a bad laceration on his brow, and my shoulder was  
dislocated." The Toledo's pilot finally replied, her voice clearing.  
"There's something else. Mind if I tell you a story, Excalibur?"  
  
Gideon glanced at Matheson, the two men exchanging looks of confusion as  
the Captain leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his  
thighs. The Toledo's pilot didn't seem like one for excessive chatter,  
so it could be the oxygen deprivation surfacing, but at the same time  
she could be trying to get him a message she couldn't directly relate in  
the fear of being overheard by the wrong people.  
  
"Certainly, Toledo." Gideon rested his forehead in a hand.  
  
"I used to go fishing a lot when I was a kid. I remember this one time  
I had found a huge worm, threaded it through the hook and let it out  
into the stream." She paused, making sure the transmission was  
complete.  
  
"I was trying to cast it into position, but this one big fish managed to  
get a piece of it without getting caught. So all I had left was a small  
decrepit bit of worm that didn't even squirm anymore."  
  
Gideon's eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the floor, going through  
the details of her story. A whole worm now just pieces; he was  
beginning to wonder if she meant her ship.  
  
"But I waited for what seemed forever before I saw through the water  
this pike that seemed about a mile long. Very sleek, very shiny, and  
could get very nasty if it wanted to. Certainly had the teeth for it."  
Very sleek and about a mile long? Could she be referring to the  
Excalibur? Since the Drakh dropped the plague after their failed  
attempt to use the planet killer on Earth, the Excalibur had been in  
nearly every news feed, stating its mission and impressive details.  
Gideon kept listening, his interest piquing.  
  
"Just when I was about to give up, the pike took my measly bait, and  
never knew what hit it until it was too late. I reeled it in easily  
after a small fight because surprise had been on my side."  
  
"How many other fishermen were out in the waters that day waiting for  
the pike?" Gideon asked, hoping he was interpreting her message  
correctly. Had she figured out that someone was waiting in the shadows  
to ambush whatever rescue attempt being made? Could it be the Drakh  
like he suspected in his worst fears?  
  
"I knew of one for sure, he was across the stream quite a way. Could  
have been others, you know how they swarm like bugs." The last word was  
stressed and Gideon sighed, his suspicion was most likely correct. He  
quickly tried to think of a way to ask her more directly if it was the  
Drakh or not. He understood her need for subterfuge; if the Drakh  
figured out that she knew they were present and foiled their attempt to  
lure in the Excalibur, the Toledo would be destroyed without  
hesitation. At least by notifying Gideon, it wouldn't be such a  
surprise attack.  
  
"Yes, like a plague, right?" In his mind's eye, Matthew crossed his  
fingers, hoping it wasn't too obvious. With any luck the Drakh who  
where listening were still trying to decipher the meaning of fishing.  
  
"Yeah, that type of bug. But you know, Excalibur, sometimes even bugs  
can become the bait." She laughed slightly, relieved that he understood  
what was being relayed.  
  
"Sir, in normal space it will take us five hours to get to the Ghayn  
system; three in hyperspace." Matheson whispered, barely audible to  
Gideon so he wouldn't be overheard by the open com line. The Captain  
nodded his head and mouthed a thank you.  
  
"Toledo, thanks for the story. It's definitely has given me something  
to think about. What is your current life support status at this  
point?"  
  
"A little less than four hours and counting down. I can decrease the  
output another ten percent, but that will make us unconscious. I might  
be able to jury rig something else to extend it further." At least she  
was optimistic; Gideon had to give her that much credit.  
  
"Acknowledged. We'll keep the line open in case you need to relay  
additional information."  
  
"Negative, Excalibur. I need to reserve power. These active  
transmissions are draining too much. I will send a status update in  
thirty minutes. Toledo out." The transmission ended and Gideon sat  
back again, turning towards Matheson. Dureena stepped closer away from  
Max, a look of confusion on her face.  
  
"What as that all about? Fishing, worms, and bugs? Is the pilot  
hallucinating?" She lifted a hand from her chest to absently play with  
the metal charm hanging from the choker around her neck.  
  
"No, she was trying to tell us without directly stating, that the Drakh  
are hanging out around her ship waiting for us." Gideon watched as the  
emotions flowed across the thief's face, shock and anger mixing with  
fear and hatred.  
  
"That means Galen was right. It is a trap." Her fingers collapsed over  
the charm, squeezing it tightly.  
  
"She gave us a chance to develop a plan though, which in turn will make  
it easier for us to rescue them." The Captain turned, addressing the  
Lieutenant again. "I need tactical to draw up several plans of possible  
attacks. Give them the information given to us about the system from  
Mister Eilerson, and include that there may be at least two to six Drakh  
Raiders, and more than likely, an armed Cruiser. I also want ideas as  
to how to rescue the crew of the Toledo during a firefight. Two are  
critically wounded and two may be able to assist." Matthew ticked off  
his orders on his fingers as Matheson memorized each, watching the  
Captain's hands.  
  
"Yes sir. Time frame?" He reached out as Gideon extended his hand,  
passing him the data crystal.  
  
"Preferably before the Toledo calls again. That should give them twenty  
minutes to come up with a few preliminary ideas. Put the Starfury and  
Thunderbolt wings on standby. Eventually I'm going to have to brief  
them on what will be going on." Matheson gave Gideon a curt nod before  
walking past Eilerson towards a tactical station where he could  
coordinate with the teams.  
  
"What do you think our chances are?" Dureena leaned against the chair,  
looking down at Gideon. He glanced up, his chin cradled with a hand as  
his elbow sat on the armrest.  
  
"We have the advantage now, but I wouldn't place bets just yet."  
  
"That good?" She smiled with sarcasm. "I've seen worse odds."  
  
"So have I. Some you win, some you don't. Let's hope this is in the  
win category. I think Earthforce might be a tad angry if the Excalibur  
gets destroyed." Gideon grinned, crossing his feet at the ankles as he  
stretched them over the small pedestal surrounding his chair.  
  
"They'll have to get in line." Dureena threatened, an eyebrow raising  
slightly. "Earthforce will be the last of your worries."  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of." Few things were as dangerous as Dureena  
Nafeel when angry, and Gideon always tried his best to keep her from  
exhibiting that potential, especially when it concerned him  
directly.  
  



	7. No-So-Petty Annoyances

Last Call -- Chapter 7: Not-So-Petty Annoyances  
  
  
  
The squadron bays in the Excalibur were different than on most  
Earthforce and Alliance ships; the small tactical crafts within were  
lined and stacked in the hold like aircraft on ocean carriers. The  
Aurora-Class Starfury was a small one-pilot ship capable of pinpoint  
maneuvers and direction shifts that made it indispensable in a close  
range firefight. The Excalibur also had a complement of the two-seater  
Badger-Class Starfury. They were very similar to their sister ships in  
that they supported better weapons and armor at a minor cost in  
agility. Also aboard was the newer development of Earthforce, the  
tandem Thunderbolt; an atmospheric fighter that could be equipped with  
missiles for bombing raids. Whether they flew out of the bay or dropped  
from launching turrets beneath the Excalibur's basal fins, the space  
fighters were impressive and gave the Victory-Class destroyer, in  
combination with its own devastating weapons, more firepower than any  
other craft in Earthforce or the Interstellar Alliance.  
  
That notion made Matthew Gideon extremely prideful if not a little  
cocky.  
  
To Matthew, commanding the Excalibur was the fruition of all his life he  
had put into his career as an Earthforce officer. He had surprised  
most, including himself, with being able to get that far. More often  
than not, his adage of not being subtle or pretty had been his downfall,  
leaving him open for criticism and skepticism. It was still a mystery  
to Gideon why Interstellar Alliance President John Sheridan had chosen  
him over some other captain who could play better by the rules, but for  
once he was proud of the fact that his reputation, however dubious and  
sketchy, had landed him the job. He wasn't looking for honor or glory  
in addition to the cure, just for an opportunity to prove to others he  
was fit to put on his uniform every day and perform his duties to the  
best of his abilities like he always thought he had.  
  
The fighter pilots were put on standby since the Captain had deduced the  
meaning behind the Toledo's metaphorical message. Seventy-odd pilots,  
navigators, and radar intercept officers sat before him in rows, quietly  
talking amongst themselves as they waited for the meeting to begin. All  
were dressed in similar blue and gray space suits, but with different  
patches adorning their chests and arms, signifying the separate flying  
wings. Not only were they pilots, but engineers, Medlab personnel,  
security officers, maintenance staff-all trained for multiple duties  
aboard the Excalibur. The staff and crew had been pulled from other  
Earthforce ships that weren't caught within the quarantine, including  
those from Gideon's previous command, the Phoenix. Some he knew well,  
others he was happy to have the opportunity to serve with.  
  
"Let's get started." Matthew spoke out from his position in the front  
of the instruction room, addressing the gathered pilots. A few other  
officers stood with him, consisting primarily the tactical team that had  
developed the course of action. The room gradually quieted till only  
the sounds of rustling flight suits could be heard in the section of  
chairs.  
  
"Thank you for your patience. I know I put you on standby since early  
this morning without a word as to why. I've called this meeting to  
discuss the mission we are pursuing to rescue the crew of a disabled  
freighter.  
  
"Normally this would be fairly routine, but I have my suspicions from  
talking with the pilot that there are Drakh Raiders and Cruisers in the  
vicinity." Muffled voices raised their surprise and concern as Gideon  
moved to the large main viewing console set up at the front of the  
room. He placed a data crystal into the computer port and opened the  
dimensional diorama of the target area.  
  
"This is the Ghayn system and has one original, non-EA jump gate. From  
our last conversation with the pilot approximately thirty minutes ago,  
it has been confirmed that they left hyperspace at this gate to make  
repairs to their plasma engines. Something happened to the ship while  
coming through the gate, which fried the engine relays, leaving her  
stranded. They have drifted away from the gate and the planet near it."  
  
As he spoke, the display drew a similar wireframe outline of the EAS  
Toledo as the one he had seen in the map room. A simulated engine  
breech pushed it out from the gate, and showed the drift pattern as the  
craft moved further away. Gradually the viewpoint shifted to the  
perspective from the cockpit of the Toledo, and additional wireframes  
began to appear, each outlined in red to signify enemy ships. Two were  
directly within the line of sight and five more were stationed in the  
blind spots on either side of the viewing canopy.  
  
"We also have confirmation of two Drakh ships positioned within the  
pilot's view. External sensors are down, but visuals have been made  
using field monoculars." Gideon smiled to himself, remembering the  
struggle the pilot had with words in order to relay that piece of  
information. The conversations had become a study in obfuscation, with  
pointed questions and answers designed to confuse the Drakh on their  
true meaning.  
  
"Without knowing numbers, it's difficult to decide on a course of  
action. The current idea is to form a jump point above the freighter  
that will position us between her and the Drakh. From there, we will  
send out a breech pod to attach to the command deck of the hull. If the  
Starfury and Thunderbolt squads distract the Raiders, we should be able  
to accomplish this without major incident since we have the element of  
surprise on our side. They know we are coming, but do not know that we  
are aware they are there. Even if there's a chance it's only two ships,  
we're still going in hot and heavy."  
  
Gideon paused, allowing the battle compilation to continue playing,  
showing a wireframe Excalibur exit a self-terminated jump point to halt  
over the Toledo. Short range fighters swarmed from the bays and launch  
turrets to surround and engage the enemy while a breech pod was  
jettisoned, coasting its way till it landed on the Toledo's hull. The  
EVA team inside would act to remove the four crew members before sending  
the pod back on its preprogrammed course to the Excalibur.  
  
"Some of you may feel this is a bit drastic for rescuing four crew  
members on a decrepit freighter, but this is also a chance to show the  
Drakh that we will not stand for this kind of terrorism. I'm sure I'm  
safe in assuming that I'm not the only one that thinks this is a  
particularly cheap way to get in target practice."  
  
Mutual nods came from several pilots as they studied the diagrams. Most  
had battles with the Drakh before and knew the relatively small amount  
of ships as nothing to get over confident about. A Drakh Raider had  
weapons comparable to a White Star in range and intensity, their smaller  
stature making them more maneuverable. The Cruisers were the size of  
most Earthforce destroyers, if not bigger, and could carry up to forty  
Raiders within their bays. If the ships were given a chance to prepare  
for battle, it would slim the odds for a successful rescue attempt.  
  
"I am going to leave it up to the flight commanders as to assigning  
duties. I will keep them apprised of the latest if these plans change.  
For now, every one will remain on standby. Thank you for your attention  
and cooperation."  
  
Pilots began to rise to their feet, eager to get a better look at the  
schematics. Gideon left the data crystal outlining the plan; the more  
the pilots studied the better prepared they would be. Tactical officers  
remained as well to inform the flight commanders on the fine points the  
Captain had omitted. Quickly Matthew left, heading for the commissary  
to brief the EVA team.  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
"Where is Gideon?" Galen sidestepped as an ensign passed him on her way  
to navigations. He could have easily obtained his own answer from one  
of his remote probes on the Excalibur, but he wasn't in the mood.  
Lieutenant Matheson looked up from where he sat in command, glancing  
over his shoulder at the man standing several feet behind him. It  
didn't take the Technomage much time to get to command from the docking  
bay, only recently receiving clearance to board. But his appearance was  
disheveled and made him look harried; the greatcoat was unbuttoned to  
reveal the leather pants and woven tunic beneath it.  
  
"Briefing the EVA team for the rescue attempt."  
  
"Not good." Galen visibly fidgeted, something he very seldom did, worry  
lines forming on his normally smooth forehead.  
  
"What's the problem?" Even without a scan, Matheson could tell Galen  
was anxious from the telepathic vibes emanating from him.  
  
"Where is he?" The Technomage sighed, not purposely trying to answer a  
question with a question. "I'm sorry, but this is rather urgent and it  
involves the ship he's trying to save."  
  
"The commissary." Without pretense, Matheson gave him the answer.  
  
Galen nodded and turned, his black overcoat swirling around his legs and  
he nearly collided with the same ensign as she returned from  
navigations. She was clearly embarrassed and promptly apologized.  
  
"No need. I'm used to being unnoticed." He replied with a mock smile  
that gave her cause to move quickly away from him.  
  
He marched down the corridor with purpose, heavy boots almost soundless  
on the tiles. The personnel occupying his path parted to walk along the  
walls, his presence still ominous to those who disliked his order. The  
effect guaranteed his solidarity, but in a way it saddened the  
Technomage. He had lost the desire a long time ago to be seen as a  
recluse and to be feared, but his need for personal isolation never  
left. It was fine by him to be considered some mysterious being, the  
lack of interruptions allowing him greater time to concentrate on the  
task at hand. Only one man seemed to lure and unhinge him more than  
most lately, either with his bull-headed stubbornness or obstinately  
linear thought progression, and that man was Matthew Gideon.  
  
The tunnel car was unoccupied as the doors opened to allow Galen access,  
and he ducked, shoulders hunched, as he stepped into the small space.  
He stood along the back wall, crossing his hands at his waist as his  
feet stood shoulder width apart. Enjoying the lurch and the brief  
moment of weightlessness as the car began its descent, Galen balanced on  
steady legs. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself by taking a  
deep breath to release slowly. The latest reconnaissance he had  
gathered was anything but reassuring, and gauging his own reaction to  
it, he knew Gideon wouldn't be any less incensed. While in his flyer,  
Galen accessed his probes to keep apprised of what was happening aboard  
the Excalibur and to learn of the Captain's plans for the rescue  
attempt. The idea would have been perfectly sound if it wasn't for one  
slight flaw that was beyond Matthew's control.  
  
Landing at the central deck, he walked down another corridor before  
coming to the entrance of the commissary. Hatch doors with a circular  
glass insert slid open at Galen's presence and he entered, his feet  
passing over beige tiles. Pleasantly lit with power globes on the walls  
and in tracks on the ceiling, the commissary was appealing in  
appearance, complete with small trees and vines that grew in giant pots  
along the walls. The wooden tables were aligned in rows the length of  
the room; most had space for at least eight while some were only  
designed to seat four.  
  
It was empty room except for a small cluster of officers and crew  
sitting at a far table. Gideon was positioned near the wall, his  
natural paranoia making sure he could watch the door and protect his  
back at the same time. A few cradled coffee mugs in their hands, the  
brew poured from the carafe sitting at the middle of the table. Galen  
walked towards the table, his steady stride traveling the short distance  
quickly. Matthew was in mid-sentence when the Technomage interrupted,  
coming to stand between two of the gathered crew.  
  
"Captain, we must talk." Startled, the two officers on either side of  
Galen calmly shuffled their chairs to the side, giving him more room.  
  
Matthew slowly closed his mouth, stifling the words he was about to  
say. An eyebrow raised as the corners of his lips down turned, clearly  
showing his lack of amusement with the intrusion. As if in protest of  
Galen's demands, Gideon leaned back in his chair and slouched, not in  
the mood to bow to the Technomage's rudeness.  
  
Immediacy had given Galen the reason to interrupt. He had been aboard  
the Excalibur enough to understand military culture and how one acted  
around one's superiors, all of which in Galen's opinion, deluded  
effectiveness. Gideon was neither his superior or within his chain of  
command so the Technomage addressed the Captain as he saw fit, often  
receiving a reprimand from Gideon for undermining his authority.  
  
"Your obstinacy is all well and good, Gideon, but it will prevent you  
from finding out what I know about the ship you are gallantly trying to  
rescue." Galen's smile was crass, suitably teasing the Captain. Gideon  
struggled between needing to know and proving a point to the Technomage,  
and quickly the former was winning. He hated the fact he was so pliable  
for Galen and always left without any sociable means to prevent it from  
happening or reoccurring.  
  
"All right, what is it?" Indignation brewing further, Matthew leered.  
  
"There is something I need to show you. Perhaps you should come this  
way?" Galen motioned with his hand towards the doors of the commissary.  
  
Gideon took his time to stand, straighten his uniform, and address his  
crew before following the Technomage. He asked them to wait for a few  
minutes while he found out what Galen so desperately wanted to tell  
him. His dark eyes never left the Technomage as he walked out from  
behind the table to catch up with Galen who had moved to the middle of  
the room.  
  
"I don't appreciate you-"  
  
"That does not matter, Matthew." Galen raised a hand to dismiss  
Gideon's reproach. "What does is the fact that the Toledo isn't leaking  
radiation as your engineer predicted; it's leaking plasma. If you go  
there with guns blazing, as I know you will, you will destroy that ship  
and do significant damage to the Excalibur."  
  
Visually the Captain's anger evaporated, his eyes widening at the  
realization of what Galen had said. He stood wordless, his eyes  
searching the Technomage's face and pale blue eyes as he inwardly  
thought, events as he had planned them unfolding in his mind with a  
spectacularly brutal end. A solitary shot from any weapon would  
discharge the plasma and turn it into raw energy, enough to vaporize the  
Toledo. His idea of opening a jump point above them was systematically  
scrapped; the energy of the opened port to hyperspace would set off the  
plasma as well, possibly even before the Excalibur had managed to exit  
to normal space.  
  
"Are my trespasses forgiven?" Galen smiled wearily, raising his chin  
slightly as if he could elicit forgiveness with a suggestive glance. "I  
felt it was necessary to tell you directly instead of in front of your  
crew."  
  
"Yes, thank you." Matthew spoke absently, still lost in the revelation  
Galen exposed. Finally his eyes focused again, and he sighed angrily  
with a muffled growl. "I knew this was going to be a bad day.  
Shouldn't have even gotten out of bed."  
  
"Next, you'll be blaming it on me." Galen's smile widened.  
  
"So? What's your point?" Despite the horrible news, Gideon allowed  
himself a small grin.  
  
"Don't suppose I have one." Taking a few steps back, Galen moved  
towards the doors. "I'll be here when you need me."  
  
As the Technomage parted, Gideon was left with a further question; one  
he felt would never be answered-how did Galen know? How did he know  
Gomez had claimed radiation was interfering with communications? How  
did he know the Toledo was leaking plasma? He glanced at the ceiling as  
if divine intervention could make the bad details any easier to take.  
Internally swearing, he raised his com bracelet to his mouth and  
depressed a switch.  
  
"Gideon to Matheson."  
  
"Matheson. Go, Captain."  
  
"Get the Toledo on the line, I'm coming back command." Casually, Gideon  
glanced over his shoulder at the EVA team he'd have to dismiss until  
later.  
  
  



	8. Comfort In The Cold

Last Call -- Chapter 8: Comfort In The Cold  
  
Author's Note: After much debate, I decided to include this chapter.   
It could be easily skipped without taking anything away from the story;   
I just had a point to make. In regards to the established plot in B5:  
If Minbari souls, either in entirety or in part, are being reborn into   
Humans, who is to say one race could not find a soulmate in the other  
(of course ignoring the fact that procreation would be impossible)?   
The greatest chance for success on this theory would be among the Rangers.   
Just as Humans can find their soulmates in members of different cultures   
other than their own, romance could bloom between a Minbari and a Human.   
After all, both races are spiritual in their own rights as well as   
compasionate and loving. I doubt I am the first to consider this and I  
doubt within the realms of the B5 universe, John Sheridan and Delenn   
(hybrid or not) are the only ones to realize this possibility.  
  
Additionally, this chapter does contain very minor spoilers for Kathryn  
Drennan's book, "To Dream In The City Of Sorrows." If you haven't read  
the book, you won't be missing out.  
  
On with the only bit of sappiness you will see in this story....  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"This is the last." The Minbari drifted closer into the small alcove  
adjacent to the storage area as he carried two EVA suits with him. She took  
them from his hands and inspected each; one had a gap in the zipper well  
and the other had a large slice though the material that made up the  
left leg.  
  
"So far we have three-fourths of an entire suit. Are you sure there  
aren't any more in the storage closet?" Naomi frowned. It was her own  
fault she hadn't checked the suits in the cabin before they departed, an  
oversight in thinking that those in the cargo hold would be sufficient.  
She now wished she had exchanged the two groups.  
  
"Yes. What parts are you missing?" Drefen pulled closer by grabbing  
onto a strap fastened to the wall. He tethered himself to the strap,  
stabilizing himself as he hung in the air beside Naomi. She was  
stationary with her own tether tied at her belt, keeping her close to  
the suits she was working on.  
  
"Right glove, right boot, and a throat seal. I think this last one will  
provide the seal and some tape should take care of the rest." She  
fisted the thin rubber-like fabric in her hand angrily. "If I had only  
checked these damn suits before we left."  
  
"It is pointless to blame yourself now. What happened has happened and  
there is nothing you can do about the past. You must look toward the  
future and make the most of the situation." Drefen spoke calmly, and  
even if he was Worker caste, to Naomi he sounded annoyingly like one  
from the Religious caste.  
  
"That doesn't make me feel any better. I was supposed to be the  
principal contact on this mission and look at us-stranded in the middle  
of nowhere without even one fully functional EVA suit. Who am I  
supposed to blame but myself?" Anger clenched her throat, making her  
voice sound strained. She hid her face from the Minbari, not wanting  
him to see her upset.  
  
"Why must you blame? It was unforeseeable for the engine to malfunction  
as it did. You followed standard procedures to exit hyperspace and make  
repairs. I see no reason for you to be so upset." Even though Drefen  
had occasionally seen the behavior in Naomi before, it made him  
uncomfortable in not knowing how to help her. It was something Human to  
him; Minbari usually did not act the same when angered or upset. Most  
of his race wished to be alone to reflect with meditation, but he knew  
of no particular rituals for Humans.  
  
"Just call it a Human shortcoming, all right?" Angrily Naomi tossed  
aside the ruined parts of the last suit before swiping the back of her  
hand beneath her nose. "I hate the fact this could have all been  
avoided. I was totally stupid."  
  
"Is berating oneself a Human shortcoming as well?" Drefen reached  
steadily, curling his hand around her shoulder. The pressure was firm  
and unmoving, instantly making her uncomfortable.  
  
"Don't patronize me, Drefen. I like you too much to start hating you  
now." Her eyes lifted from her empty hand to stare at the wall straight  
ahead, her jaw setting hard.  
  
"Is that what you think?" His grip tightened momentarily before it  
loosened, finally drawing away. "I would have thought that in the six  
years we have worked together, you would know me better than that. I am  
sorry to hear I was wrong."  
  
"Oh, no you don't. You don't get off that easy. Like I haven't had my  
fair share of that high and mighty Minbari attitude of yours?" Finally  
Naomi turned around, eyes narrowing as her hand lifted to point a finger  
at the Minbari. "I'm due a good, old fashioned Human tantrum, and if  
that means I want to blame myself for what has happened, then dammit,  
I'm going to!"  
  
Drefen slowly smiled. Stress, lack of sleep, and oxygen deprivation had  
all served to shorten her temper and he was embarrassed to find himself  
a victim of the condition as well. He watched her with curiosity as a  
heated flush rose in her cheeks, her eyes bright with emotion. The more  
he stared at her, the further the anger began to diminish.  
  
"Are you aware of how silly you look and sound at this moment?" He  
asked softly, reeling himself closer to Naomi by pulling on his tether.  
  
"I have an idea." She released a deep breath, trying to make the last  
of her anger disappear. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you, but I feel  
responsible for you, Daniel and Karnier, this ship, and the mission.  
Can you at least understand that part of my frustration?"  
  
"Yes. That is reasonable." They floated together, their bodies close  
enough to easily touch each other. Gently Drefen placed his hand on her  
shoulder again. "But when will you realize that you do not have to do  
it all yourself? We are a team, working together for a purpose. For  
instance, with your arm, do you honestly think you will be able to  
proficiently put on that EVA suit and bring the others forward from the  
hold?"  
  
He could tell from the look in her eyes that she hadn't even considered  
it, planning from the beginning to do it herself. Realizing how correct  
he was, she bowed her head, shaking it slowly side to side.  
  
"Have I told you lately I hate it when you're right?" Naomi sighed,  
corrected once again with the consistent logic the Minbari possessed.  
"But I can't ask you to do this yourself."  
  
"No one said you had to; I will do it regardless. This is also my  
mission, Naomi. I am just as eager to complete it as you are." Over  
her shoulder, he briefly watched as the pieced EVA suit floated away  
from the wall. "I will need an additional oxitab to keep my mind clear,  
and assistance to put the suit on."  
  
"Drefen-"  
  
"Naomi, have we not been in situations such as these before?  
'Apparently hopeless' has never been in your vocabulary."  
  
"I have no fear of dying, you know that." Naomi raised her hand, a  
finger tracing the stitching detail of the fabric across his chest.  
"What I do fear is losing those I have sworn to protect because of my  
ill thought out actions."  
  
"If it is prophecy for me to die here, allow me to make good use of my  
life. You would ask the same thing, but for this task I am better  
suited." Drefen's light eyes were intent, his head bowing slightly as  
if asking for permission. He would do it with our without her blessing,  
but it was his nature to have it. His eyes finally lowered from hers,  
closing slowly. Drefen felt the gentle pressure of her hand against his  
bone crest, her fingers trailing over the ridges as it traveled towards  
his ear. Naomi's touch was soothing and delicate, relaying all of her  
emotions with the slightest of grazes. Memories replayed in his mind as  
he leaned into her hand, each choice that he had made led him to his  
current life.  
  
Drefen's family had come from a long line of shipbuilders, experts in  
design and manufacture among his clan, influencing the Minbari destiny  
among the stars. His apprenticeship ended in the last year of the  
Earth-Minbari War, pushing him immediately into work as an engineer.  
Naagar, his mentor and friend knew the young Minbari would do well in  
whatever he decided to pursue, and Drefen found his niche reverse  
engineering Earth-tech. The systems were fascinating to him; so  
different from the technology the Worker caste had developed over  
generations to complete their War Cruisers and Frigates, Fighters and  
Transports.  
  
He was just as intrigued as the rest of his clan when the Religious  
caste demanded the surrender. Without much explanation they laid down  
their tools and stopped new production and research. Drefen thought he  
would never receive a reason why; it was typical to be told only what  
others thought you needed to know, but the lack of an explanation  
angered him. He had friends and clan members who died on the ships the  
Humans had destroyed, and he wanted to know why the Religious caste so  
suddenly changed their mind, especially since they were the first to  
have the thirst of revenge; Dukhat had been Satai and one of the  
greatest who ever held the honor of the title.  
  
It took nearly ten years before the Religious caste revealed their  
reasons and immediately the Warriors scorned them for the foolish idea.  
Drefen had never been overly preoccupied with religious beliefs-his  
interests were in circuits and microprocessors-but the concept of the  
soul form was universal. To try and understand how Minbari souls were  
being born into Humans was almost beyond comprehension.  
  
Perhaps it was because he hadn't seen the battles from the firing lines,  
or served aboard a star craft during the war, that Drefen didn't find  
the idea as objectionable as some of his peers. Like all Minbari, he  
lived by the teachings of Valen; to serve the whole and to serve  
something greater. Minbar began to prepare for the coming darkness as  
told by prophecy, and Drefen found himself at the crossroads.  
  
Naagar began to speak of the An'la'shok, a gathering of Minbari and  
Humans to stand against the darkness, and it piqued his interest.  
Drefen's training was no longer needed to dismantle Earth-tech for the  
war, but perhaps he could use it to strengthen resources between the two  
races. His mentor quickly sent him to the ancient city of Tuzanor to  
see Jeffrey Sinclair, and to talk about his possible future.  
  
Sinclair was the first Human Drefen had ever met in person and the quiet  
man surprised the Minbari. The new Ambassador had an easy inner calm  
about him backed by a deep integrity that Drefen only had seen in other  
Minbari. Sinclair was genuinely interested in Drefen's work, asking  
pointed questions in his best attempt at the Worker caste dialect as he  
practiced the language. Despite the Ambassador's role in the  
Earth-Minbari War, Drefen didn't find him anywhere near the barbarian he  
had been made out to be.  
  
The evidence of the Shadows return grew as the small numbers of  
An'la'shok gathered reconnaissance, the surveillance recordings and  
first-hand testimonies awakening a terror within Drefen he had never  
felt before. With Naagar's and his clan's blessings, Drefen joined the  
growing group, the ranks finally opened for the first time to members of  
his caste. As his training began, he met more Humans, most of whom were  
hand selected by Sinclair himself. Few things individualized one  
Minbari from another, but with the Humans it was different. They came  
in all shapes and sizes as well as skin and hair colors, but one thing  
was common among them all; the worse the odds, the stronger they fought.  
  
What made that tendency even brighter was if the particular Human had  
what they referred to as a chip on the shoulder. However confusing the  
term, Drefen witnessed it first hand in many, including Naomi Cohen.  
She arrived in Tuzanor several months after his initiation, her quiet  
anger seething beneath a forced calmness. Naomi was at one time a  
member of Earthforce, her military background showing during weapons and  
intelligence gathering training. She earned her right to use the sacred  
fighting pike, the denn'bok, as did all of her race after several trips  
to the infirmary at the hand of Sech Durhan. Over time, Drefen had  
developed many friendships with Humans, learning and observing as he  
often did with other Minbari.  
  
At times, he began to see things within his Human friends that made him  
reassess the Religious caste's revelation. Perhaps it wasn't Minbari  
souls that were being born into Humans, but both races had souls that  
intertwined, made of the same molecules and particles as they moved  
between the two to enrich the whole. And beyond all else much to his  
chagrin, he found himself developing an embarrassing crush on Naomi.  
She wasn't overtly beautiful, even in Human standards, just plain, and  
overruled by her pride and confidence. But once someone earned her  
trust, her loyalty was undying. Drefen found that the most appealing.  
His discomfort with himself over the juvenile feelings diminished as he  
reflected on it; what was so shameful about his emotions towards another  
caring and devoted being regardless of her race? They never dwindled,  
but deepened until she was as dear to him as his fellow clan members,  
and he gladly pledged to give up his life for her if the occasion  
arose. The sentiment was genuinely reflected every time he gazed into  
her eyes.  
  
The hand along his jaw moved slightly, lifting his face. Gradually  
Drefen glanced up and caught her eyes, moist again with unshed tears.  
Naomi smiled widely as her hand slipped down over his neck to rest  
gently at his shoulder.  
  
"I don't know why my possible impending death makes me so maudlin.  
Maybe it's the lack of oxygen to my brain that's making me loopy." She  
managed a small laugh and Drefen matched her smile. "But only one thing  
comes to mind at this point, something I picked up while reading Minbari  
religious texts. Separated we may become, but I will see you again in  
the place where no shadows fall."  
  
Deeply touched by the sentiment, Drefen bowed his head again, leaning  
forward to press his forehead to Naomi's. She sighed at the touch of  
his cool skin against hers.  
  
"Yes, extremely maudlin. You sound more and more like a Minbari every  
day." Drefen joked, trying to lighten her mood.  
  
"I don't know whether that's a complement or not."  
  
Their limbs became intertwined, drawing the Minbari and the Human closer  
in an embrace as they floated together, finding comfort in one another.  
Smiling against the plume of Naomi's hair that fanned out around his  
face, Drefen reached for their tethers keeping them near the wall and  
pulled. With a small movement of his wrist, he managed to unlatch hers  
and reeled it in to attach to his. Once he unclipped himself, he became  
dependent on her tether, now lengthened by the two combined. Giving a  
gentle push off from the wall, Drefen allowed their bodies to drift  
further out than where they had been before.  
  
"What are you doing?" Naomi pulled away slightly to look at the  
Minbari. His hand lifted to tuck the strands of hair behind her ear  
away from his face. They didn't stay there for long.  
  
"Maybe I am sensing my own mortality as well. Having another living  
being beside me reduces the feeling. I'm sure you understand."  
  
"More than you know." Naomi whispered against Drefen's dark tunic as  
she relaxed in his arms. Raising her face to the ceiling, she gazed out  
of a small viewing hatch into the depth of space. If it was the end,  
she could think of no one she would rather be beside, or for that  
matter, any place she would be more willing to die, than in the vastness  
of space.  
  
  



	9. Perhaps, Possibly, Maybe

Last Call -- Chapter 9: Perhaps, Possibly, Maybe  
  
  
  
Two hours and rapidly counting down.  
  
The thought made Gideon wish he could crawl back into bed and sleep into  
next week. Sighing hard, he slouched in the padded seat he occupied in  
the bullet car and closed his eyes. It didn't take imagining for  
Matthew to know what the crew of the Toledo would be going through  
before life support totally collapsed. As environmental controls began  
to fail, the cabin temperature would decrease to an unbearable chill,  
exaggerating the headaches and muscle soreness. He was certain they  
were already experiencing side effects from the oxygen deprivation,  
making even minor movement impossible without resulting in  
breathlessness and a disorienting dizziness.  
  
Lifting a hand, the Captain ran his fingers through his dark hair,  
pausing to scratch the back of his neck. The Drakh stationed around the  
Toledo had been a big enough nuisance in itself and Galen's recon on the  
plasma leak made it that much more difficult.  
  
Plasma engines worked by electrically discharging particle rich gas to  
produce an enormous and very reliable thrust. Low in cost and  
maintenance, these engines were used in ships such as freighters and  
personal transports in a variety of different designs. But if something  
happened to the ignition systems or an interruption of the particle flow  
occurred, the results could be disastrous. According to what Galen  
reported, it appeared to be the former in the Toledo's case, spraying  
plasma through the core without being discharged. Quickly the particles  
were filling the immediate space behind the engine exhaust, building a  
potential for an external force to set it off. Uncontrolled, the blast  
would continue to feed off the spray coming from the Toledo and backwash  
into the system. The engines would be destroyed, triggering the  
disintegration of the entire ship. If the crew could shut off the  
particle release and drift further away from the plume, the Toledo might  
have a chance; Matthew could only hope that momentum would be enough.  
  
Light strobed behind his closed eyes, pulsing as the bullet car surged  
towards its destination. The dull hum of servos and gears added to the  
strange numbness he began to feel, finding the solo bullet car trip to  
have an almost hypnotic effect. Within the daze, an overwhelming sense  
of terror crept up on Gideon, paralyzing him in fear without warning.  
His thoughts returned to the Toledo as it sat drifting helpless with  
internal air at a minimum. From the safety of a ship it was easy to  
forget that in the vacuum of space, not a desperate gasp of it was  
breathable. The coldness was as absolute as the tremendous isolation.  
A loud scream echoed in Gideon's ears, a voice cold and metallic before  
it dissolved into his own desperate cry.  
  
Matthew forced his eyes open to stare at the opened door, completely  
unaware the bullet car had even stopped. It would remain open until he  
decided to exit or gave it a further command, and he visibly shivered,  
attempting to send his own memories back into the darkest recesses of  
his mind.  
  
A breep from his com link startled him. He slapped his hand to his  
wrist. "Gideon."  
  
"Captain, I have the Toledo on hold." Matheson replied through the com.  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Matthew was more thankful for the  
interruption. "I'm almost there."  
  
The open door greeted him again and Gideon steadied his nerves. He cut  
the open link and stood slowly, moving towards the doors to pass through  
them into the corridor. The narrowing hallway took him into the bridge  
where Lieutenant Matheson waited.  
  
If Matheson noticed Gideon was pale, he didn't say anything, choosing to  
file it away until the time was more appropriate. He locked eyes with  
the Captain once, and instantly knew things were bad and going to get  
worse. A mixture of emotions flowed from Gideon, more naked than he  
wanted, and the telepath respected his privacy enough not to pry.  
Matthew had always been of few words and chose to share outright even  
fewer.  
  
"Sir, the co-pilot answered."  
  
"Something happen to the pilot?" Gideon looked away finally, marching  
to the command chair before sliding into it with ease.  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"Re-establish link."  
  
"Re-establishing. Aye, sir." A small nod from Matheson gave Gideon the  
go-ahead.  
  
"Excalibur to Toledo, do you copy?"  
  
"Copy, Excalibur." It was a nondescript male voice that replied. "I  
believe we are not due for another status report for quite some time.  
Is there something wrong?"  
  
Gideon almost wanted to laugh, long and hard, at how unfair everything  
in the universe rapidly appeared to be. If the co-pilot only knew how  
wrong things really were, Gideon figured he would have the same  
reaction.  
  
"Unfortunately I have some bad news, Toledo. Where's the pilot? She  
should hear this too."  
  
"She is currently working on a solution to our growing life support  
problem. I assure you, Excalibur, I will relay whatever the news is to  
her. Please continue."  
  
Gideon fidgeted, trying to find a more pleasant way to deliver his  
information. Sugar-coated was never his style. "Some advanced  
detection on our part has discovered your ship is leaking plasma."  
  
"I understand." There was a long pause, as if the co-pilot was taking  
the time to digest exactly what it was that Gideon said. "If the manual  
overrides are still functioning we should be able to cut the plasma  
flow, but at our current rate of speed, I am not sure if we will be far  
enough from the plasma by the time you make it to us."  
  
"How long will it take you?"  
  
"Depends. Preferably under two hours, after which it will be  
pointless." Contrary to his words, the voice did not seem disturbed.  
"I will need to fully study the diagrams of this system to be sure it  
can be accomplished without compromising the reactor. For all I know,  
it could be the main power relay of the electrical systems."  
  
"We have a few engineers aboard that know her design and could help. Do  
you want me to contact them?"  
  
"Thank you for the offer, Excalibur, but allow me to research on this  
end first. Once I have a feel for the systems, and if I have questions,  
I will contact you. As the pilot stated before, direct transmissions  
drain too much from our system."  
  
"Acknowledged. I'll have them look at the blueprints on their own in  
anticipation of your questions. Is there anything else you need?"  
  
"Negative, Excalibur. Thank you for the information. Toledo out." The  
connection was terminated abruptly. Gideon turned to Matheson and  
shrugged.  
  
"Sounds like he's not overly concerned." Gideon paused, allowing  
himself a small smile. "Yet, anyway."  
  
"Should I let Chief Gomez know what's going on, sir?"  
  
"Yes, tell him about the plasma leak and have him examine the engine  
schematics for any hazards. The co-pilot may need to talk to him if  
anything is unfamiliar or potentially threatening." Gideon stood from  
the chair, having an urge to do something, anything, other than sit in  
wait. He had a few ideas of his own on how to proceed with the rescue  
if the plasma prevented and all-out attack, and those plans were  
dependent on the Excalibur's resident Technomage.  
  
"Where will you be, Captain?" Matheson asked, his commander and friend  
appearing very old, worn, and tired.  
  
"Docking bay, selling my soul to Galen." Gideon paced his way from  
command, leaving what he knew would be a very puzzled first officer  
behind.  
  
The lift was occupied when Gideon passed it and quickly he backtracked,  
sliding his hand between the doors. Having company was much preferable  
to being alone with his thoughts. Sensing the disruption, the doors  
opened again, and waited for him to step inside. Resuming, they slid  
shut.  
  
"Docking bay." He stated before nodding at the two technicians standing  
beside him. They returned the favor before looking down, interested in  
the comp pads and clip boards they carried as the lift descended  
quickly, ultimately coming to a rest at the last deck. Matthew waited  
impatiently for the doors to open, striding forward to step out when  
they finally moved. He exited before they were fully open, turning his  
body to squeeze through in urgency. The two hours left would quickly  
dwindle to one, then to none, and the crew of the Toledo would be dead;  
he had to do something to prevent that unquestionable outcome.  
  
The hallway brought him past the observation deck overlooking the bay,  
giving him a glimpse of the technicians and craft, and Galen's flyer  
sitting in the middle near the atmospheric shuttles. Gideon entered an  
access shaft and took the descending stairs that emptied into an  
airlock. Cycled open, the hatch slid back as he approached, and he  
walked into the pressurized deck of the flight bay.  
  
It was easy to appreciate the comparative size of the Excalibur from  
standing in the bay. In either direction the massive space stretched,  
various crafts parked within alcoves or along the walls, anchored to the  
deck with locks that fit over the landing gear. Fumes of spent fuel  
wafted through the room and burned at his nostrils, the air scrubbers  
working to clean it and make it viable for recycling throughout the rest  
of the ship.  
  
All reports said Galen had returned to his flyer, preferring that to  
wandering the ship while waiting for Gideon to find him. The Captain  
headed towards the personal craft, wondering why it always made him so  
nervous. It was probably the black exterior, polished to a sheen and  
extraordinarily void of detail that made the craft unnatural and  
inhuman. The power globe light that illuminated the bay should have  
reflected off its surface, but didn't; it merely glowed from the very  
edges to look like black volcanic obsidian. The sensation reminded  
Gideon too much of a similar feeling he had nearly ten years previous as  
he watched an exodus of similar ships pass him by while he floated  
helpless in an EVA suit.  
  
Most ships had structural wear to their outside surfaces, pocked by  
cosmic debris that scratched and pitted the smooth metal. The  
Technomage's ship lacked any such signs of stress, smooth and shimmering  
as if it had been recently resurfaced. Gideon was thankful it didn't  
have the organic look, which appeared in his nightmares, flowing and  
ebbing over the surface like rippling waves in a dark reflecting pool.  
  
If he waited long enough, pacing around the perimeter of the ship, Galen  
would appear.  
  
Gideon's patience paid off. The ramp lowered from beneath the flyer,  
silent until the bottom touched the flight deck. Illuminated stairs  
disappeared into the darkened hatch and the Captain watched, boots  
becoming legs, then a torso and further, as Galen descended from the  
flyer.  
  
"Can we talk?" Gideon tentatively touched the edge of the flyer's wing,  
stretching above his head. Oddly it didn't feel as cold as he  
suspected.  
  
"I don't know, can we?" One look at Gideon told Galen the man wasn't in  
the mood for a semantics debate. The Technomage smiled. "Oh, all  
right, but kindly remove your hand from the wing. I just had it waxed  
and polished to perfection."  
  
"I need your help." Matthew did as told, resorting to put his hands in  
his pockets. "I've gone over it six ways from Sunday, and I can't  
figure out any other way to do it. Can you get me to the Toledo?"  
  
"I can, but to do what, Matthew?" Galen enjoyed being obstinate, maybe  
too much for Gideon's tastes.  
  
"I've seen what your ship can do. I have every reason to suspect you  
can coast under the Drakh's radar, and they'll never know you flew by.  
If you can get me out there, I'll be able to pull the crew off the  
ship."  
  
"Gideon, as soon as you put one foot into space, they will detect it."  
  
"I know that, Galen." Gideon paused, taking a deep breath. The last  
time he truly trusted the Technomage, his ship was shanghaied, its  
movements controlled by the navcom on the flyer as they searched for the  
Well of Forever. "That's why I need you as well."  
  
"Oh, Matthew, I'm touched." The smile on Galen's face widened to his  
eyes and became wicked. Gideon's gaze narrowed. "But I will confess  
right now, I am awfully allergic to EVA suits."  
  
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He scolded. "You must have  
something in your big bag of Technomage tricks you could use to create  
the same sensor dampening shield around me that's around your ship."  
  
"Sometimes you put too much faith in my abilities." The bitter words  
slipped out before Galen realized it and the smile leached from his  
face. Gideon had a feeling it wasn't directed at him personally, but at  
the memory of those who had asked the same and who Galen thought he had  
disappointed. Matthew couldn't be sure.  
  
"Galen, I can't leave them there to die and I can't risk damaging the  
Excalibur if the plasma explodes." Adding insult to injury, Gideon  
continued. "Face it, your flyer is more expendable then the Excalibur  
and her crew. Unless you have a better suggestion, you're my only  
hope."  
  
"I certainly beg to differ. It is not expendable in any sense of the  
word." Galen straightened, his hands fisting at his sides. "Granted, I  
am able to make dispersion fields that are nearly impenetrable-I repeat,  
nearly impenetrable-but only around myself or around someone close by.  
I cannot vouch for accuracy beyond something outside of my reach."  
  
"What about attaching your flyer to the Toledo and extending the field?"  
  
"It's not that simple, Matthew. It's not something that can be done by  
touch." Galen shook his head and turned away slightly. What Gideon was  
asking wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities; from sheer  
concentration, it would simply drain the Technomage of every ounce of  
energy he possessed till total exhaustion. And Galen wasn't sure how  
long it could be sustained, certainly not for the duration Gideon would  
need.  
  
"What about an illusion of some sort?" Matthew felt like he was  
grasping at rapidly fading straws. "Make it appear like a sensor  
malfunction."  
  
Galen's eyebrow hitched once before his face returned to its unreadable  
expression. "That could be possible."  
  
"I wouldn't need much time." Gideon frantically added not wanting to  
lose Galen's interest. "I can have the crew position themselves close  
to the point of entry and bring them all out at the same time. Once I  
get them on board, we'll take off like a bat out of hell and call in the  
Excalibur. She'll open a jump point over their heads and surprise the  
Drakh. They won't know what hit them."  
  
Galen had to force the smile from his face, enjoying the Matthew's  
renewed enthusiasm. If he was the type, the Technomage was sure Gideon  
would drop to his knees and beg. For having a total lack of  
understanding when it came to technomancy, the Captain's ideas were  
remarkably sound, however mentally grueling. Gideon might have some  
hope yet.  
  
"My ship is not above a direct plasma explosion either. If you can  
receive confirmation that the leak has been stopped, I will assist you."  
  
"Thank you, Galen." The elation on Gideon's face said more than his  
words.  
  
"I hope you understand the risks, Matthew. Nothing is guaranteed."  
  
"No, but the odds have just tipped in my favor. I'll let you know when  
I have final word." He clapped Galen's shoulder in gratitude before  
turning to leave.  
  
"Matthew?"  
  
Gideon turned when he heard his name, walking backwards towards the  
hatch.  
  
"You are most welcome."  
  
Galen finally smiled as he watched the Captain march across the flight  
bay. Turning to face his flyer's hatch, he caressed the rail, mumbling  
to his ship as he ascended the steps.  
  
"Expendable? Never! Ignore him, darling, he didn't mean it."  
  
  



	10. Preparations

Last Call -- Chapter 10: Preparations  
  
Author's Note: Many "thank you kindly"s to those who have given me feedback!  
  
  
  
  
  
Naomi's eyes focused on the unnatural way his right arm floated, her  
hand clutching the controls for the airlock as she mentally counted down  
the seconds before she could open the hatch. The EVA suited Minbari  
within slouched against the inner wall, using the last of his strength  
to remain upright. Within a large duffle he carried in his left hand  
were four undamaged EVA suits from the hold.  
  
"Come on, come on." She angrily spoke to the air, annoyed with the  
length of time the system was taking. A hiss of air pressurized the  
airlock as it cycled, slowly reaching the necessary levels. She watched  
for a few agonizing moments before the panel changed colors, indicating  
all safety precautions had been completed. Her palm slammed into the  
release knob and the door slid open on its tracks. The Minbari drifted  
to her as she reached towards him with a hand, straining against the  
tether that kept her fixed to the wall. Finally Naomi grabbed him,  
fisting her hand in the suit's fabric to drag him closer.  
  
"Are you all right?" She looked through the clear plastic visor at his  
pale face, his eyelids fluttering rapidly. "Drefen, answer me please!"  
  
"In Valen's name, not so loud. I'm injured, not deaf." He could hear  
her outside the suit as well as through the portable com attached to her  
ear that played in his headset. The device had been used to keep in  
contact as he went through the hold. Drefen didn't open his eyes and  
his lips barely moved. With effort and a deep moan, he managed to push  
the bundle towards her. "Take them."  
  
Ignoring him momentarily, she clamped his floating tether to her belt to  
make sure he was anchored. Urgently he felt for her hand and pressed  
the handles of the duffle bag into it. "Take them. Need to rest. Tell  
Excalibur…leak fixed."  
  
Unceremoniously, Drefen passed out, his body becoming limp against  
hers. Frantically Naomi tried to wake him in fright that something more  
serious was wrong. She released the duffle and it began to float away,  
but she didn't care; she would be able to find it later. Drefen was her  
primary concern.  
  
"Oh god, Drefen!" Despite the pain, Naomi lifted her wounded arm and  
reached to steady his head. She cried out in agony as she forced the  
arm to work, tossing the EVA helmet aside when she had finally pried it  
off. Quickly she checked his pulse, thanking God, Valen, and any other  
diety she could think of as she felt his strong pulse coming from  
beneath his pale skin. With any luck, the broken arm was the extent of  
his fresh injuries.  
  
"Computer." It beeped in response. Straining, Naomi began to slowly  
pull her way back through the corridor leading to command, reattaching  
her tether to each new anchor. Drefen's motionless body dragged behind,  
gently bumping against her as she moved.  
  
"Record message for broadcast transmission on last established frequency  
to the Excalibur." Naomi fought to keep the emotion out of her voice.  
Another beep told her the computer was ready for her message.  
  
"Toledo to Excalibur. All systems green. Proceed as scheduled. Toledo  
out." The computer chirped one final time as it began transmission.  
  
"Remind me to thoroughly thrash you when we get out of this, Drefen.  
Why the hell didn't you tell me about the plasma leak before you tried  
to stop it?" Naomi cursed angrily at the unconscious Minbari behind her  
as tears began to cloud her vision. "Men! You're all the same no  
matter the race!"  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
"Captain, are you sure you want to do this?" John knew the question was  
pointless before he even asked it; of course Gideon wanted to tempt fate  
again. No one was ever stranded on his watch. No one.  
  
"I have to. There's no other way." Matthew sat at his desk in his  
quarters as he scratched a few notes on a pad of stationary. He was  
trying to complete the last of the paperwork before he left, not wanting  
to leave it for Matheson in case anything happened. The Lieutenant had  
just arrived with confirmation from the Toledo that the plasma leak had  
been plugged.  
  
"I know sir, but…." Matheson's voice trailed off, his lips setting in a  
thin line. Gideon looked up and smiled.  
  
"Look John, this Mother Hen act that you've taken on is quite charming,  
but I think you're investing too much into it for my benefit." Gideon  
dropped the pen and leaned back. He folded his hands over his stomach  
as he turned the chair to face Matheson. "Don't get me wrong, it's nice  
to be loved, but come on."  
  
John finally smiled, bowing his head slightly as he stood beside  
Gideon's desk. "I thought 'Mother Hen' was in my job description as  
first officer, sir." His smile quickly turned into a smirk. "And to  
act as your sense of self-preservation since you seem to lack one."  
  
Matthew laughed. "Noticed that, did you?"  
  
"Just be careful." The Lieutenant's face softened as he repeated his  
caution.  
  
"I usually try to be." Slowly Gideon stood, sliding the chair beneath  
the desk. "But if I do get myself killed, I want you to head to our  
next set of coordinates and keep looking. You know where I keep my logs  
so you're welcome to them. I've done a little research on my own and  
I've mentioned a couple possibilities."  
  
"Yes sir." John nodded. His eyes followed as Gideon picked up a  
blue-glass bishop from the chess set on his desk. The Captain tumbled  
it in his hands, contemplating the smooth surface.  
  
"You better take good care of her." The Lieutenant knew Matthew  
referred to the Excalibur.  
  
"Of course, sir, like a mother."  
  
"Good, 'cause if anything happens to her on your watch, I'll know."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"No priest in the universe will be able to exorcise me."  
  
Matheson shook his head, watching the large smile form over Gideon's  
face. Matthew was purposely stalling, but for what, the Lieutenant  
wasn't quite sure. The Captain returned the chess piece to the board  
and placed both hands on his hips. Turning, he faced his first officer  
again.  
  
"Galen is going to preprogram his flyer to return to the Excalibur at a  
determined time. If something happens to us and we're detected by the  
Drakh, you'll know about it. Jump in at our last known coordinates and  
take them out. Don't come trying to rescue us - just destroy the  
Drakh. That is your primary goal. Pick up our debris afterward, not  
before." A wary smile returned to his face.  
  
A head nod was Matheson's only reply, not really wanting to think about  
the possibility that the plan wouldn't work. The Captain was blindly  
staking his life on Galen's abilities to bend reality. Matheson had  
served with Gideon long enough to know that the risks were always  
calculated and weighed against the benefits. A tip of the scales in the  
wrong direction meant Gideon would call it off without hesitation.  
  
Gideon removed his uniform vest and folded it in half, smoothing it over  
the back of his desk chair with a hand. He walked around John and  
opened his closet, pulling from the rack a dark leather jacket. After  
setting the hanger back in the closet, Matthew swung the jacket over his  
head, slipping his arms into the sleeves.  
  
"Did you get the equipment I requested?" Gideon adjusted his collar,  
flattening the worn leather over the back of his neck. Sticking two  
fingers up each cuffs one at a time, he adjusted the fabric of his  
shirt, pulling out the gathers. Satisfied, Matthew zipped up the jacket  
to mid-chest.  
  
"Yes sir. I had the technicians assemble it in docking bay. There are  
medical supplies as well, courtesy of Doctor Chambers."  
  
Gideon nodded eagerly. "Good idea. I'm not exactly a field medic, but  
I can try to make them more comfortable." He patted his pockets and  
glanced around looking for something, but he couldn't remember what.  
His brow creased in concentration as he tried to think.  
  
"One other thing." Finally remembering, Matthew picked up a data  
crystal from the shelf beneath the vid console. "I need you to maintain  
communications silence. We're pushing it as it is with this plan. If  
there's a discrepancy, the Drakh are going to know it. Besides which,  
Galen is going to need every ounce of concentration he has to pull this  
off."  
  
"Do you think he will?" Matheson's eyebrows lifted in concern.  
  
"I'm not sure, but I have to trust him that he can." The Captain  
smiled, motioning towards the door with a hand. "I don't think Galen's  
the type to get himself into something he couldn't be successful at.  
Would hurt his ego and make him look bad."  
  
Matheson smiled wide and followed Gideon to the door. They walked down  
the corridor to the bullet car, traveling together to the docking bay.  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
Galen stared, unblinking, as he sat, comfortably reclining in a black  
leather armchair. Arcs and lines of neon green striped over the irises  
of his eyes, the implant lenses displaying the systems he was working  
with. Diagnostics were being run in the background as he tasked his  
ship to make sure all was functioning correctly. He was barely aware of  
his own breathing, so focused on his concentration, but at the same  
time, every muscle in his body was rigid and strained.  
  
It also served to make sure the Technomage could remain in control as he  
began the delicate operation of creating illusions. Galen had spent the  
time since agreeing to Gideon's plan devising the equations he would  
need, practicing in small scale. Once he was satisfied with what his  
conjurings would achieve, he filed them in his mind in an easily  
accessible fashion. He could use them at will, pulling forward an  
equation, adding to it dimension and intensity, before projecting them  
alone or in combination.  
  
He took a deep breath, allowing it to expand his chest and stomach.  
Very slowly Galen released it, forcing the tension from his body. A  
strange feeling grew in his gut and he could sense his heart beginning  
to beat faster, echoed by the implants and his extremities. It was  
nervousness and it had been foreign to him for a long time. The  
Technomage was confident in his abilities-they had kept him alive and  
unharmed for the most part. Now that Matthew had become dependant on  
them as well, the situation changed. Not only was Galen responsible for  
himself, but for another and the beings they were trying to save from a  
gruesome death.  
  
The last time someone had been so dependant on his talents it had cost  
him the dearest thing in his life. She would have never been so  
judgmental, but Galen couldn't give himself that kindness. In his eyes,  
his incompetence and fear had cost Isabelle her life, robbing him of  
someone that had made him truly happy.  
  
The tension in his body returned ten fold.  
  
Angrily Galen shook his head to clear the thoughts and his concentration  
dissolved. Closing his eyes, he assisted the implant lenses to return  
to their resting spot near the optic nerves. Gathering the sides of his  
opened overcoat, he stood and the leather chair disappeared to show the  
rough black floor beneath his feet.  
  
"This will not do." With his eyes still shut, he sent an impulse from  
the implants to his hand, lifting it to draw a flame-circumference  
circle before his face. As he slowly opened his eyes, the middle began  
to fill with the image of a young woman in a brown frock. Long  
strawberry blonde hair fell past her shoulders, the loose strands tucked  
behind ears that stood out a little too far from her head. A sly smile  
stretched her lips and lightened her welcoming gray eyes. Galen's  
pained gaze absorbed the image, his focus moving to her strong slender  
hands, hands that wove fabric and dispersion shields with such grace and  
accuracy that it astonished him.  
  
Galen's hand moved to the image, extending towards it as if he could  
reach through and pull her through, back to the living. Slowly the  
circle rippled at his touch before it dissolved, leaving his hand alone  
in the air and the emptiness growing in his heart.  
  
"Perhaps this time I will be able to follow through on my obligation of  
protection, my love."  
  
  
  



	11. ‘Sympathetic’ Exasperation

Last Call -- Chapter 11: 'Sympathetic' Exasperation   
  
Author's Note: I have no idea why I'm so cruel to Gideon through Galen.  
Really I don't. :)  
  
  
  
  
"You know Matthew, I don't think you brought enough stuff." Galen  
smirked, watching from a distance as Gideon sorted through his gear.  
Not appreciating the sarcasm, the Captain glared at the Technomage.  
  
"Don't you have a ship to fly?"  
  
"What makes you think I'm not?" His face was serious behind the smile  
and Matthew sat back on his heels. Gideon opened his mouth but promptly  
closed it, dismissing his question with a wave of his hand. He shook  
his head slightly before returning to lift from a bag his EVA suit.  
  
"Why does that perplex you so?" Galen stepped around the Captain as he  
began to circle. They had left the Excalibur's docking bay nearly ten  
minutes previous, making one large sweeping pass across the front of the  
bow before opening a jump point to enter hyperspace. Not that Matthew  
could tell; from within the darkened main chamber of the flyer, he  
didn't even know they had left until Galen informed him.  
  
Pulling the EVA helmet from the bag, Gideon cradled it in his arm as he  
passed his fingers over the shield insignia attached above the visor.  
In the dim reflection of the haze from the power globe above, he could  
see Galen as he hovered, circling around behind. Undistinguishable  
lights from distant control panels twinkled around the Technomage's  
shape.  
  
"Do you mind? You're making me dizzy."  
  
Galen did as asked, stopping directly in front of Gideon. Sweeping  
aside the open front of his coat, the Technomage slowly sank to his  
knees, adjusting his clothing before reaching into the heap of the  
Captain's gear. From a bag he pulled out the right glove to the EVA  
suit and slipped his hand into it, flexing his fingers to test the fit.  
The red o-ring seal bunched on the sleeves of the heavy coat.  
  
"Don't go casting any fireballs through it. That's the only one I  
have."  
  
"Have more faith in me than that, Gideon." Galen pulled off the glove  
and returned it to the bag. He sat back and watched as the Captain  
fussed with the helmet, adjusting the array of lights that would  
illuminate his path.  
  
"How much time are you giving me?"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"How much time do I have before this ship automatically returns to the  
Excalibur?" Matthew extinguished the lights, setting aside the helmet  
before reaching for another bag. Pulling back the long zipper, he  
removed the contents and spread them out in the small amount of bare  
floor in front of him. Long canvas straps and harnesses of various  
shapes and sizes were tied together in neat bundles.  
  
"Oh that. I haven't quite decided yet." Galen's brow creased as he  
looked at the probable hundreds of feet of strapping Matthew was sorting  
in his lap. "Given the fact that I haven't done this before, I'm not  
really sure. What do you suggest?"  
  
Gideon pushed away the bag and stacked the bundles into sets, each  
having the same number of straps and harnesses to make four piles  
total. Reaching toward Galen he picked up a bright orange bag from  
beside the Technomage and placed it near the piles. Opening the bag  
with one hand, he reached in with the other and removed a portable  
welder's torch, complete with a backup tank of acetylene. Galen's eyes  
widened at the sight.  
  
"What? I might have to cut something." Gideon saw the Technomage's  
look of unease.  
  
"Yes, well, it's just that you're brandishing that with such zeal…you're  
making me nervous." Galen sighed happily when Matthew returned the  
torch to the bag.  
  
"You forget, I need you to fly this bird and get me there and back in  
one piece." He rested his hands in his lap and glanced at the  
equipment. "If all goes well and I don't have to cut open any hatches,  
I'd approximate twenty minutes total. It'll take time to get the crew  
into the harnesses, especially if they're injured and half conscious.  
Can you give me at least thirty minutes aboard, plus a little extra to  
make sure I'm set once we get back here?"  
  
"Yes, that is fine, but if you are not back before the programmed time,  
I will leave you behind. I will not be able to concentrate on masking  
your presence and monitoring the Drakh if I also have to keep track of  
the clock. It can't be reset for the same reasons."  
  
"Can you keep the illusion up for an hour?" Gideon chewed the inside of  
his lip, not liking the shades of gray that had worked their way into  
the plan. "I mean, you don't even know if it's going to work, right?"  
  
"I could lie to you if you wish." Slowly another wide smile lightened  
Galen's face. "Honestly Matthew, I don't know. Oh it can be done -  
illusions performed on the grand scale like Alwyn's golden dragon or his  
holo-demons - but this is different. Within the illusion I must also  
mask your appearance in space. Body heat, density, shape, size all must  
be concealed. Each object you manipulate will need masking as well. It  
will look awfully ridiculous for an access panel on the side of the hull  
to suddenly emit heat."  
  
Gideon frowned. The whole mission was beginning to be more complicated  
that he wanted. He slouched, shoulders rounding as he stared at the  
fabric of his pant legs. "Son of a…."  
  
"Yes, that would be my assessment as well." Matthew replied with an  
angry sigh. "Look on the bright side; at least we'll die together."  
  
"That's not funny. It's about as appealing as dying with Max." Finally  
the Captain smiled.  
  
"I'm hurt." Galen looked pained. "Here I am, trying to assist you, and  
you insult me. If that's the way you're going to be-"  
  
"Galen."  
  
"Well then, I think I'll just take my ship-"  
  
"Galen."  
  
"And go home, because I can't-"  
  
"Galen, would you shut up?" Gideon was almost laughing, resisting the  
urge to reach across his gear to clamp a hand over the Technomage's  
mouth. Galen's smile returned and widened even further, making him look  
almost maniacal.  
  
"I suppose." As quickly as the smile had taken over his face, it faded,  
his features becoming serious again. "I won't abandon you, Matthew, not  
if I can help it. But you must understand, you will be alone once I  
begin this endeavor. I will not be able to assist you with the  
passengers. And I also must stress that it is very important that you  
do not touch anything. I will give you access to the hatches, but  
everything else will act accordingly if it is violated."  
  
"Yes, I know. I've been aboard before, remember?" Gideon looked  
around, still unable to distinguish more than the floor he sat on and  
the faint lights from panels. "No touchy feely with your ship, I  
promise."  
  
"Excellent. Thank you."  
  
"How much further?" Gideon asked, standing up to stretch his legs. The  
Technomage did the same, his gaze becoming distant as if lost in  
thought.  
  
"Galen?"  
  
"Just a moment." He paused before his eyes focused on the Captain  
again. "Not too much further. We will be coming out of hyperspace a  
good distance away from the freighter just to make sure our approach  
isn't discovered."  
  
"Good idea." Absently Gideon looked around again, needing something to  
occupy his restless mind. Sarcasm was all that came to him. "Could use  
some paint. Maybe a throw rug or two."  
  
"You think so? I've always thought that one can't go wrong with basic  
black." The Technomage crossed his arms over his chest and pondered.  
  
Gideon smiled and looked over Galen from head to toe. "You know, I  
never would have guessed."  
  
"I don't have any problems clashing with my décor this way." He turned  
and began to walk into the shadows, nearly disappearing if it wasn't for  
the power globe light glinting off his scuffed head. Gideon cautiously  
followed.  
  
"Could you show me how many Drakh ships are positioned around the  
Toledo?"  
  
"As in the numbers my ship has detected?" The path became progressively  
darker as Matthew crept forward, needing the faint sound of Galen's  
boots on the floor as a guide.  
  
"Yes, and where."  
  
"You ask for an awful lot, you know." The Technomage stopped and Gideon  
almost collided with him. Briefly Matthew heard the rustling of fabric  
before a vid screen illuminated before Galen, casting him in  
silhouette. Gideon took another step, his eyes concentrating on the  
image. It wasn't a vid screen at all, but a projection like those  
created in the Excalibur's map room. The edges around the image were  
hazy, rippling as if it had been created on a surface of smoke.  
  
"Nice. Kinda classy." The Captain watched in awe as the liquid crystal  
color of the projection dissolved into a star field image, complete with  
the Ghayn system's jump gate. Floating in the center and framed by the  
large gaseous planet and its asteroid satellite, was the Toledo, its  
hull marked by the characteristic red and orange striping along the  
cargo hold.  
  
"Thanks. I think so, too."  
  
Gideon tore his eyes from the screen long enough to look down into  
Galen's hands. They surrounded a metallic looking sphere, the top hand  
moving to allow his index finger to use it like a track ball. Neon  
green crosshairs flashed in the star field before the image zoomed,  
enlarging the target. Displayed in front of his eyes was a Drakh Raider  
and Gideon whistled low and long through his teeth in response to the  
image.  
  
"Long range probe. Virtually undetectable, unless of course you're  
unlucky enough to fly canopy-first into one."  
  
"Where can I get one?" Gideon's eyebrows lifted in amazement.  
  
"One of a kind design. I made it myself, and before you ask, only  
another Technomage can control it."  
  
"Damn. So much for Matheson's Christmas present." Another ship was  
targeted and zoomed into focus. This time it was a Cruiser. Galen  
smiled.  
  
"I'm not sure the Lieutenant would appreciate all he'd have to go  
through to use it."  
  
"No, you're probably right." Tentatively, Matthew reached out a hand to  
motion at the display. "Can you back out and give me the overall  
picture?"  
  
"Of course." The image returned to normal frame, centered on the  
Toledo. The neon green crosshairs still highlighted the Drakh ships in  
the vicinity, distinctly showing three from that angle.  
  
"All right, wise guy. How about a panoramic 3-60?" Gideon joked, happy  
enough with the view he had. He did a quick double take as the stars  
and the gate disappeared, leaving only the ships behind, the probe  
relaying the information through Galen. The ships remained anchored as  
the probe's vantage circled, pitched at a 45-degree angle to display six  
more Raiders and an additional Cruiser, all fanned out in an arc across  
the Toledo's bow.  
  
"Okay, enough showing off all your swell Technomage toys."  
  
"Jealous?" Galen chuckled, manipulating the sphere between his hands to  
return the image to normal.  
  
"Extremely." Gideon pouted.  
  
"At least you are honest." The projection faded into the liquid crystal  
gray image before disappearing altogether. Plunged back into darkness,  
Gideon was momentarily disoriented.  
  
"Galen?"  
  
"Yes, Matthew?" The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and  
nowhere at the same time.  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"Over here."  
  
A power globe suddenly switched on, casting its light on the plain table  
and chairs beneath it. Galen sat in a chair facing the Captain, a deck  
of playing cards shuffling through his hands. Oddly, the light went no  
further than the edges of the table, even though it should have been  
powerful enough to light half the room. Gideon slowly walked to the  
table.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"I figured we could use a distraction to fill the time. How about a few  
hands?" He smiled, spreading the cards out before collapsing them and  
splitting the deck. Casually he set the two halves together on the  
short end and fanned them, recombining the piles at the edges into one.  
Placing his thumbs along the top ridge, he bent the ends under,  
effectively sliding the cards together as they cascaded down under the  
apex.  
  
"You play?" Matthew asked cautiously as he slid into the chair opposite  
Galen's. "How do I know you don't have some probe hanging out over my  
head to give you a look at my cards?"  
  
"How sporting would that be? I am a Technomage, not a cheat."  
  
"You mean they're mutually exclusive?" Gideon smiled, enjoying the  
perturbed look on Galen's face.  
  
"Yes, they're mutually exclusive." He mimicked in a whining singsong.  
Done shuffling, he dealt a hand of five cards to himself and Gideon  
before returning the deck to the middle of the table. Over his cards he  
watched as Matthew considered his own, rearranging them to his liking.  
Finally he plucked out two cards from his hand and set them on the table  
face down.  
  
"Two." Matthew's left thumb began to play with his ring, twisting it  
around his finger as it rested beneath his cards. If it was a tell,  
Galen wasn't sure if the sign was good or bad. It didn't matter. The  
Technomage dealt him the cards he requested.  
  
Galen's hand held a pair of queens. Removing the other three, he set  
them beside the deck before pulling his replacements from the top.  
Casually glancing at Gideon's hands, he noticed the ring had stopped  
moving and the Captain's face was expressionless. Looking at his cards  
again, Galen reordered them and sighed to himself. His luck hadn't  
changed.  
  
"Three-of-a-kind; jack high." Matthew spread his cards out on the  
table.  
  
"A little more than nothing. A pair of lovely ladies." He fanned his  
on the table with his fingers. "Good thing we're not gambling-you could  
probably win my ship."  
  
"Is that an offer?" Gideon collected the cards and began to shuffle.  
  
"Absolutely not." Galen paused, turning his attention inward, his eyes  
becoming glossed. He sat unmoving for a moment, not even aware Matthew  
had started to deal.  
  
"Galen?" Gideon's voice fell on deaf ears. Turning his head sideways  
slightly he stared at the Technomage in concern. Leaning forward, he  
spoke again. "Galen!?"  
  
"What?" As if a switch had been flipped, he suddenly reanimated. "Oh,  
sorry 'bout that. You might like to know we've left hyperspace."  
  
"When?" Usually there was a strange sensation when molecules elongated  
and recondensed while traveling the brief distance through a jump point  
or gate, but Matthew felt nothing. Without being able to look at his  
external surroundings, he couldn't tell if the flyer was really moving  
or not. Now that he concentrated on it, he realized total silence had  
replaced the hum and vibrations he normally felt while aboard the  
Excalibur. The lack of sensation almost made him think he was in a  
darkened room planet-side.  
  
"Just now. We still have a bit more normal space traveling to do,  
though." Galen picked up his new hand.  
  
"I don't understand how this ship can do half the stuff it does. It's  
practically undetectable. You control it by thought-"  
  
"It's a little more complicated than that, Matthew."  
  
"Still, you gotta admit it certainly looks that way, or you'd be in the  
cockpit instead of playing cards with me. I don't know where you end  
and the ship begins." It was a different concept for Gideon to try to  
wrap his brain around. He knew about stealth technology and the concept  
of autopilot had been in existence since the earliest airplanes on  
Earth, but Galen's flyer seemed to defy physics. Sensor relays were  
able to detect the faintest signals and expand it to usable form,  
boosting navigational capabilities to previously unknown proportions.  
Galen didn't have to directly command it to do anything; it did  
everything conceivable on its own.  
  
"As much as I am a part of the ship, it is a part of me -- an extension  
of my body, if you will. Sympathetic magic." Galen smiled, enjoying  
the Captain's bewilderment as much as the hand he had been dealt. The  
pair of queens was now a pair of sevens accompanied by a pair of tens.  
One more of either and he would have a full house.  
  
"You said that about your staff. They both can't be the same." The  
debate had taken Gideon's concentration from his cards. As he looked at  
them, he realized he had nothing to work with.  
  
"Why not? 'Sympathetic' simply means that what effects one, effects the  
other." Galen removed the lone three of hearts and slid it face down  
towards the Captain.  
  
"And how come the inside of it feels like we're sitting in a hangar when  
the ship is no bigger than an atmospheric shuttle?" Gideon tossed the  
Technomage his requested card.  
  
"Because I have excellent interior design skills?" Galen laughed and  
picked up his card, trying to conceal his delight in that it was another  
seven. The odds were slim to none, but he now had a full house.  
Matthew sorted and slapped down three cards before drawing from the  
deck.  
  
"It is what it is, and nothing more. I don't understand why you insist  
there is something else, something I'm keeping from you."  
  
"Maybe 'cause I know you." Matthew watched as Galen put down his cards,  
displaying a full house. He swore under his breath and set his measly  
one pair on the table. "There's something you're not telling me-"  
  
"And it's driving you insane? Well, I'm sorry Matthew, but the universe  
is full of questions and very few answers. This is one you will not  
find today, or anytime soon." Anger swelled in Gideon's features and  
Galen simply smiled. "Besides, how much fun would it be if I just gave  
you what you're looking for? I would be doing you a great disservice.  
No, the knowledge comes in the seeking, not the knowledge itself."  
  
"You know, Galen, there are some days I would just love to shove-"  
  
"Me out an airlock? Really Gideon, now who's not being very sporting?"  
Sliding his hand over the table, the Technomage gathered the cards.  
Matthew looked as if something was about to burst behind his eyes.  
  
"Would you stop-"  
  
"Completing your sentences?" Galen fanned the cards, shuffling them  
slowly. He didn't think himself much of a sadist, but torturing Gideon  
could be great fun on occasion.  
  
"Perhaps." He waved the cards. "Another round?"  
  
Gideon's only reply was an incoherent epithet.  
  
  



	12. What Does Not Kill....

Last Call -- Chapter 12: What Does Not Kill....  
  
  
  
  
The transponder thrummed, outlining Gideon's body with a purplish glow  
in Galen's mind. The small device was mounted to the Captain's EVA  
helmet and allowed the Technomage to keep an exact point of reference as  
Gideon began the delicate operation of a space walk. To keep his flyer  
in position while the Toledo drifted free, a grapple arm had been  
extended, attaching to the ship's hull at anchor points used by space  
tugs.  
  
The approach had gone as hoped. Both men had waited expectantly for the  
Drakh to notice the disturbance caused by Galen's ship, but as promised,  
the flyer remained undetectable. Gideon had been into his suit before  
the grapple arm even made contact and was ready to go whenever the  
Technomage gave the word. Strapping on the additional pack with the  
needed gear, Gideon had watched with mixed emotions as Galen left the  
main chamber to a place further within the ship that was better suited  
for what needed to be done. Matthew wasn't sure just how dangerous the  
operation would be or if he would live to see the Technomage again.  
  
Now Galen stood before the small cluster of necessary instruments on an  
otherwise bare black wall. Through his ship and through the implants  
throughout his body, he was able to see the individual Drakh ships  
positioned around the freighter. Enhanced sensors back traced the alien  
technology, following the signals received by the system directly into  
the central computer, and from there Galen was able to decipher the  
relays, quickly learning the foreign design. An impulse in one segment  
would trigger an internal alarm and force the ship to run diagnostics.  
A second could overload it completely and cause a collapse that would  
cease functional use.  
  
The deeper he probed, the more he realized it wouldn't be so simple.  
Advanced technology had redundant systems, and the more important the  
component, the more redundancy. For each sensor relay there were two  
additional backups, less powerful than the first, but still able to  
provide necessary information needed for navigational control. If he  
could trigger enough of the sensors to enter an automatic diagnostic, he  
had a chance of shielding Gideon from detection.  
  
Unless the artificial intelligence system could be tricked into  
believing one thing while it actually detected another.  
  
Galen slipped off his heavy outer coat and pushed up the sleeves of his  
knit shirt to his elbows. He lowered himself to the floor, not wanting  
to expend energy in conjuring a chair, and sat crossed legged with his  
hands folded in his lap. His implants began to display in extraordinary  
detail the intricacies of the Drakh AI computer, pinpointing key areas  
that would give him the access he needed.  
  
"Nicely done, but I'm afraid that won't be good enough to keep me from  
it." The system was not entirely unlike the Excalibur's in detail even  
if the programming language was different. He was confident he could  
trick it significantly, but times eleven similar systems, he wasn't so  
sure.  
  
And nothing could be done about old-fashioned detection methods. Galen  
was a Technomage not a telepath; willing a mind to believe something  
entirely different from perception was beyond his abilities. He could  
make himself disappear effectively but only through his mastery of  
technomancy. Nothing he was able to do would prevent one of the crew  
from gazing out into the stars with a distance scope much in the same  
way the pilot of the Toledo had.  
  
Matthew's only chance of going undetected was if Galen could put the  
flyer in direct line of sight. Galen instructed the ship to release the  
grapple and move over the Toledo's bow till it was nearly above the  
canopy, and the flyer tilted downward to allow the hatch to open at an  
angle. Gideon would have a tougher time moving between the two crafts,  
but the flyer would be perfect cover.  
  
"I'm just repositioning a bit." The Technomage projected his voice back  
to the main chamber, where the Captain had already begun to wonder what  
was going on. "I wanted to make sure you would go unnoticed by  
conventional means. We should be in position momentarily."  
  
Galen felt a dull thud reverberate on the floor beneath him as the  
grapple arm made contact, connecting the two ships together. Once again  
Galen centered Gideon's transponder in his mind, making that central  
amidst everything else. Probing again into the Drakh system on a random  
ship, he isolated the central nerves that fed into the main AI  
computer. Within his mind, each system began to hang like shapes in a  
child's mobile off the mast of Gideon's transponder. Connected directly  
beneath Matthew was the Toledo itself with its own four-member crew  
attached. Slightly breathless at the sight of all he had to orchestrate  
as it floated abstractly in his mind, Galen managed a smile.  
  
"What doesn't kill, makes one stronger, or in the least, maims one  
enough to make it seem like death." Already an ache began to seep into  
his muscles and spawned a headache. If he did survive, he would be  
exhausted to the point of needing several days to recover.  
  
"It's now or never, Matthew. I've shown you how to use the airlock and  
the rest is up to you. Please be quick about it." Galen corresponded  
one final time with Gideon before he locked out everything from his mind  
that didn't correspond to what would be happening in space. A distant  
alert from internal systems told him the hatch had been opened and was  
quickly cycling to allow Gideon into space. The Technomage moved the  
information aside and focused all of his concentration on that mobile,  
preparing to simultaneously cripple eleven Drakh ships.  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
Matthew tried to force his heart back down to its anatomically correct  
position instead of where it felt like it sat in the back of his  
throat. The initial step into space was the most crucial; if Galen  
could successfully blanket him, then there was a good chance the flyer  
wouldn't be targeted. Blood pounded in his ears, accompanied by the  
sound of his own breathing in the helmet. He took a deep breath, as  
deep as the controlled release of oxygen in his EVA suit would allow,  
and closed his eyes. Releasing it, he made his pulse slow to something  
near normal and opened his eyes. A gloved hand moved to the final hatch  
release and pressed.  
  
Gravity was significantly reduced but still great enough to give Gideon  
a small amount of control without having to use his magnetic boots until  
he got to the edge, and he pushed himself down the narrow tube to the  
open port and space beyond. Even though his brain knew he wouldn't fall  
from the edge unless he propelled himself in that direction, he still  
paused at the end of the ramp, to first look out into the stars and then  
down across the back of the Toledo. Galen's flyer had reattached itself  
at a forty-five degree angle to the freighter's hull, right above the  
command section. The hatch he needed to be at was clearly visible and  
silently he thanked the Technomage for deciding to reposition the  
flyer. The angular craft cast a shadow over the Toledo's hatch,  
furthering Gideon's protection from being spotted.  
  
Crouching slowly on the edge, he attached his tether to the ramp and  
reached for the utility belt strapped to his waist. In one of the  
pouches, he found a reel of thin tensile plastisteel, and carefully  
Matthew hooked the locking clip to the same ring that held his tether.  
The line would unravel from the spool on his belt as he descended to the  
Toledo where he could clip it, creating a lead to follow on the return  
trips with the crew.  
  
Firing up his propulsion pack, Gideon unlatched his tether and dove from  
the edge of the flyer's ramp, drifting towards the Toledo as fast as he  
could with carefully controlled bursts in an effort to minimize the  
amount of time Galen had to disguise his presence. Reversing thrust, he  
slowed down and gently glided into the Toledo, cushioning the blow with  
his hands as he reached out for the hatch. Another small burst from the  
pack prevented his rebound and quickly Matthew attached the plastisteel  
cable to the anchor point.  
  
Luckily Earthforce emergency hatches hadn't changed much between the  
dates of the Toledo's manufacture and the Excalibur's. Both had systems  
with designs that forcefully blew out the door with pressurized air and  
were generally used by those wanting to get out, not in. Gideon had to  
be careful not to put himself in the line of trajectory when the door  
blew wide, and silently he hoped Galen was prepared to mask the sudden  
jettisoning of a piece of the Toledo's hull.  
  
Matthew hooked himself to the anchor point and reached for the small  
control panel in the middle of the hatch. He had left the pilot with  
final instructions to override the system's safety locks and allow  
outside access through the hatch, and with gratitude he realized that it  
had been prepared as he keyed in the code. The panel flashed in a  
series of quickening lights and Gideon took cover, pulling himself away  
from the hatch to collapse his body against the hull. Holding on  
tightly to his shortened tether, he waited for it to blow.  
  
There was a thump and a hiss of air before Matthew felt the force of the  
hatch rush past him away from the Toledo. He watched it move, never  
slowing down as the unequal pressure applied made it topple end over  
end. Mesmerizing to watch, the hatch performed an inanimate ballet as  
it flowed gracefully through space, light dully shining off the worn  
exterior while it sparkled from the smooth inside. Gradually Matthew  
turned away to look above at the underside of Galen's flyer. He had  
seen it from that angle before and the memory and its surrounding  
circumstances sent a shiver up his spine. But it wasn't the appropriate  
time to think about that. Gideon had the distinct mental impression  
that the Technomage was making a demand not to waste time.  
  
Lengthening the amount of tether attached to his belt, Matthew reached  
for the edge of the hatch and pulled himself to it. Slowly leaning  
towards the opening he looked down the small chamber to the second hatch  
that contained the airlock. If the pilot had rigged the emergency hatch  
for him, it was more than likely she also had all of her crew waiting on  
the other side.  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
Even his fingernails ached as he sat motionless.  
  
Nor did Galen want to breathe, fearing it would somehow interfere with  
his concentration. If his body did breathe, air came in short ragged  
gasps he didn't notice. Pale eyes widened in response to what the  
implant lenses were rapidly feeding him in synchronicity with that being  
impressed directly into his brain via the implants adjacent to his  
spine.  
  
It felt as if fire was consuming him, burning through the secondary  
nerve system networked through his body, distracting him from the meager  
control he had on the rapidly changing images in his head. Galen hadn't  
expected the hatch to blow with the force it did and the resultant  
tumbling was nearly picked up by the Drakh. Once it had flown beyond  
recognizable distance, the Technomage released the illusion surrounding  
it without hesitation, redoubling his efforts to tell the AI computer  
that nothing was different.  
  
But at that rate, he was bound to make a mistake. Fatigue approached  
quickly and he used the time while Gideon was within the Toledo to  
regroup and prepare to mask the appearance of five EVA suits in space.  
Somewhere within, an unsettling feeling surfaced from his gut as he got  
the distinct impression the AI system was getting smarter as he deceived  
it, trying to punch holes in what it was being led to perceive. It was  
still doing what he told it to do, but it was slower to act upon his  
insistence, almost questioning the electronic impulses surging through  
the circuits. If it became too questioning, the system would alert the  
Drakh and run a diagnostic, locking the Technomage out. He hoped Gideon  
was able to get the Toledo's crew aboard before that happened or things  
would become exceedingly complicated.  
  
Or worse, the AI computer would try to defend itself and back trace the  
impulse directly to Galen, beginning a similar assault on the  
Technomage. The thought sickened him and rightly so. Technomages did  
not, as a rule, try to interfere with the programming in the implants.  
Few had tried in the past and either died in the attempt or were  
severely punished by the technology for the sacrilege. And Galen  
certainly didn't want to know how similar his implants were to a Drakh  
AI computer, or if it could mislead him as easily.  
  
Galen licked his dry lips and tasted copper. Curiosity allowed him to  
slowly raise a hand to swipe his fingers beneath his nose. The moisture  
was tacky as he pulled his hand away and he slid his thumb over the tips  
of his fingers. Beyond the superimposed images the lenses displayed,  
Galen saw his hand and focused momentarily on his fingers. They were  
smeared with blood.  



	13. Questions and Communication

Last Call -- Chapter 13: Questions and Communication  
  
  
  
"I'm going to assume you speak Standard English because my Minbari is  
horrible." Gideon grinned behind his visor as he stood with his back to  
the cycled airlock, the magnetic locks on his EVA boots keeping him  
upright. The Minbari male he spoke to lazily opened his eyes as if he  
had been awoken from deep sleep. He slouched against the wall,  
illuminated by the lights from Gideon's helmet.  
  
"Don't want to take my chances and say something that would offend your  
mother." Matthew staggered closer, his boots sliding then locking  
against the deck with each footfall. The Minbari tried to speak but  
found his mouth too dry for words, slowly tracing his tongue across his  
lips before a small croak escaped his throat.  
  
"Most say my English is not offensive so that is fine." The Minbari  
managed a slight smile and clutched his EVA helmet to his lap, groaning  
as it pressed against his right arm that oddly crossed over his body.  
Gideon figured it was broken and winced in sympathy.  
  
"Matthew Gideon." The Captain bent down close enough so the Minbari  
wouldn't have to force his eyes to focus.  
  
"An'la'shok Drefen."  
  
"Rangers?" Now Gideon understood the pilot's need for a cloak and  
dagger routine in front of the Drakh. Drefen nodded and Matthew turned  
his head, casting light over the area around the Minbari. Three other  
crewmembers wore similar old style EVA suits; big, bulky, and blue with  
large helmets that had manual UV shields for space excursions. One  
rested beside Drefen, motionless and more than likely unconscious. The  
others were strapped into zero-gee net bivouacs that hung from tethers  
attached on the ceiling.  
  
"The pilot?" Gideon nodded at the figure beside Drefen.  
  
"Naomi, yes. The others," Drefen pointed with his left hand. "Daniel  
and Karnier are seriously wounded."  
  
"I might need your help. Can you stand?"  
  
The Minbari blinked a few times as if mentally preparing himself to  
move. As he pushed off from the wall, he lengthened the retractable  
tether on his utility belt and straightened his body. Gradually he came  
to an upright position.  
  
"I'm not sure what use I'll be. My right arm was broken while I made  
repairs to the plasma engines." Drefen paused, trying to control his  
breathing. "That's why I left my helmet off."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I needed to make sure I was conscious when you came. There is  
something you need to do."  
  
Matthew didn't understand the logic of it; more air would have been  
supplied to him if he had worn the helmet. But perhaps the Minbari had  
meant that it would be easier to communicate if he had left it off. The  
Captain didn't question it, knowing the confusion was probably a  
manifestation of oxygen deprivation. Drefen struggled to keep himself  
upright against the wall.  
  
"You mean besides getting all of you off this ship? That is all I came  
for, let's get that clear." Gideon was running out of time. For all he  
knew the Drakh had broken through Galen's ruse and were already on  
approach.  
  
"No...yes...I mean that case there is more important than me. Take that  
instead if you have to, please. Make sure that gets to the proper  
destination. Medical vaccination for Kegaan 8." Drefen pointed to a  
medical supply crate strapped down near the pilot. "Please make sure it  
gets there."  
  
The Minbari slumped over, the lack of oxygen and added movement finally  
taking their toll. Gideon knew Minbari were a particularly resilient  
race just as long as they didn't have to endure high heat. Grace under  
pressure was their strong suit, but like all races, they had limits.  
Drefen had exceeded his. Matthew reached for the helmet and carefully  
fitted the opening around the Minbari's bone crest, trying not to scrape  
the seals against the purplish laceration on his bruised brow. When  
Gideon finally had it in place, he twisted the seal and clamped it, then  
locked the UV visor into place. A small twist on the regulator mounted  
to the chest of the suit released the oxygen supply and Matthew turned  
it to full, hoping to resuscitate Drefen.  
  
He took another look at the case as he opened his pack, pulling out the  
harnesses and a few lengths of the strapping. It wasn't like a Minbari,  
and definitely not the Rangers, to deal in black market drugs so the  
case had to be legitimate. Matthew knew he had to work quickly; if he  
could bring along the medicine he would, but his primary concern was the  
crew. Starting with Drefen, he began to place them in the harnesses.  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
He was on autopilot, relying on instinct to decipher the insane rush of  
information his brain tried to contain and was quickly failing to keep  
it straight. The Drakh AI system was beginning to question his input  
further and just by strength of sheer will, Galen prevented it from  
discovering all of what was really happening. But soon it would take  
more than will power to force the system into believing the illusion  
that something wasn't out in space before it. The Technomage had felt a  
back surge at one point as the AI tried to legitimize the source, and  
quickly he rerouted it back into its own relays to confuse it. The  
detour wouldn't last long and eventually the system would try again with  
more power and focus.  
  
Galen sat soaked in sweat. The additional expenditure of energy his  
implants gave off raised his body temperature and somewhere amidst the  
barrage on his brain, Galen found a brief moment to have his ship adjust  
the cabin temperature to something that would cool his body without the  
side effect of shivering. He couldn't afford to have his muscles wound  
any tighter than they already were.  
  
Fragmenting his concentration, the Technomage found Gideon's transponder  
in the chaos. Dismayed in the fact it was still pulsing from inside the  
Toledo, Galen forced himself to breathe and pushed back the pain and  
searing heat, not knowing how much more he could stand. Deceiving one  
Drakh ship would have been relatively simple, but a fleet of eleven was  
a greater task than he had ever imagined. Galen feared there wouldn't  
be enough left of himself to burn at a funeral if Gideon didn't hurry.  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
"How are they doing? Can you sense anything?" The contours of  
Dureena's brow creased deeply, showing her concern. She was worried  
about Galen and Gideon, and Matheson shared the sentiment. Her emotions  
leaked from her less than with most people, but it was still apparent to  
the telepath even if she hadn't said anything.  
  
"No, I'm not that strong." The Lieutenant turned in the command chair  
to face her as she stood beside him. "I would need a line of sight  
anyway."  
  
"I know, I had just hoped...well I suppose it doesn't matter. Either  
they'll make it or they won't and there's not much we can do about  
that." She forced a weary smile and crossed her arms over her chest,  
picking at the seams of her rawhide jacket with a fingernail.  
  
"You're right, but it still doesn't make the wait any less annoying.  
And I'm ordered to maintain radio silence, so it's not like I can call  
for a status update either." The young man sighed, looking back down at  
the comp pad in his lap. He couldn't read any further than the second  
sentence; unable to concentrate on the resource usage report he  
downloaded from the Excalibur's system earlier. Using the stylus, he  
closed the document and shut off the small device. Matheson stood and  
placed it on the chair.  
  
"All right, I'm past due for a break and I'm in the mood for coffee.  
Care to join me?"  
  
Dureena's eyes widened at the invitation and she accepted it with a nod,  
needing something to occupy her as well. The thought of another  
expedition through the between decks of the Excalibur didn't have its  
usual appeal. She thought it would take her several years to crawl  
through all the unlikely places within the ship's mile-and-a-quarter  
limits, but she had been disappointed in the lack of creativity used to  
design the ship. It had only taken her a few months. Everything was  
boringly functional and utilized, although her adventures did keep her  
in practice and in shape.  
  
"Sounds better than just wandering around on my own waiting for word."  
  
"Helm, contact me if there's any signal either from the Captain, Galen's  
flyer, or if something happens in the Ghayn system. I want to hear  
about it even if you think it's insignificant."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
They stood in companionable silence as they took the lift to the living  
quarters level and walked the rest of the distance to the commissary.  
Dureena opted for tea instead of coffee, her hand surrounding the  
ceramic mug in a way that mirrored Matheson. The room was nearly empty  
except for a few of Eilerson's IPX staff discussing the latest  
archaeological find published in a recent journal.  
  
"Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?" Dureena watched the  
swirl of steam rise from her mug before she took a small sip.  
  
"How personal is personal?" He smiled and turned the com link  
microphone away from his mouth before he tasted his own beverage. "If  
it's going to be really personal, maybe you should call me John."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, you have a first name?" She smirked widely and he shook  
his head. "I thought Lieutenant Matheson was your only name. All  
right, John, what's it like?"  
  
"What's what like?" Suddenly he laughed, realizing how obtuse he was  
being. "Sorry, I'm just not sure what you mean."  
  
"Being a telepath. Being able to read people's thoughts and emotions--"  
  
"Regulations prevent me from scanning anyone without consent." Matheson  
interrupted a little too harshly. Dureena frowned.  
  
"No need to get defensive, that's not what I meant. You have an ability  
I don't, although I do think I'm a decent judge of character. I'm  
curious, that's all." Matheson's face softened slightly.  
  
"All right. I'll answer if I'm allowed to ask a question."  
  
"Sounds fair enough."  
  
"Why did you become a thief?" For a moment, John thought he had angered  
her-Dureena's gaze returned to her mug and she stroked the curved side  
of the ceramic with her fingernails.  
  
"I had little choice. My parents sold me when I was young to pay off  
their debts. The man that happened to purchase me was a member of the  
Thieve's Guild and made sure I could make him a profit. Eventually I  
outgrew my usefulness to him and he gave me my freedom." Matheson  
sensed she was hiding something more, but didn't want to pry. She told  
him what she was comfortable with him knowing and now he had to return  
the favor.  
  
"Some days having telepathy is a great asset, on other's it's a curse.  
For the most part, I'm able to shut out the impressions I get from  
normals, but it's like having a swarm of insects around your head-I  
always pick up something.  
  
"I guess you and I are a lot alike. I was thirteen when my telepathy  
developed and I had to leave my family for the Psi Corps training center  
in Geneva. It was...enlightening, but I resented the fact I had to be  
away from my parents and the people I loved. Twenty years later and I'm  
still not sure I like any of it. I definitely don't like being a poster  
child for the Bureau of Telepath Integration, but I'm glad I finally got  
the opportunity to do what I've always wanted."  
  
Matheson rested his elbows on the table and crossed his legs at the  
ankles. Pulling his hands away from the mug, he looked at his bare  
palms. "I don't think I answered your question, did I?"  
  
Dureena smiled. "That's okay. You answered enough of it."  
  



	14. Arial Acrobatics in the Extreme

Last Call -- Chapter 14: Arial Acrobatics in the Extreme  
  
  
  
The case still remained and Gideon swore. If Drefen was right and it  
was a vaccination for Kegaan 8, he couldn't leave it behind and have the  
death or suffering of a whole planet on his conscience. Grabbing it by  
the carrying strap, Matthew shoved the case into the empty pack that had  
carried the harnesses and straps. The slow and methodical way he had to  
walk back to the airlock annoyed him, each clurk of the magnets in his  
boots against the deck reverberating in the empty room. Once within the  
airlock, he closed the hatch behind himself and rechecked the equipment  
and the Toledo's crew. Satisfied, he cycled the pressure, venting the  
last of the oxygen in the small area out into space. When the external  
port opened, Matthew crept forward and stepped around the bodies to peer  
up the long line of plastisteel cable to Galen's flyer. The Technomage  
had been successful so far.  
  
The severely injured were the first to go. Attaching the bivouac's  
tether to the cable, Gideon took the weightless body in his arms and  
used the propulsion pack on his back to slide across the distance to the  
flyer. He quickened his pace on the return trip to the Toledo,  
straining on his own tether as he raced towards the hull, slowing down  
only enough to prevent slamming into the freighter. While making the  
trip with the other injured crew member he noticed something was wrong  
with the position of the flyer.  
  
The grapple arm had retracted.  
  
"No, don't do this to me, please." Matthew begged the universe as he  
hastily strapped the second bivouac into position within the airlock on  
the flyer. The next trip he would have to bring two at a time if the  
cable didn't snap first.  
  
As fast as he could move, Gideon leapt from the edge of the ramp,  
propelling himself towards the freighter as he fired the jets on the  
pack to full burn. The hull came up on him fast and he threw the jets  
in reverse, but not enough to keep him from crashing with sufficient  
force to knock the wind from his lungs. Momentum bounced him back  
slightly, but another burst from the pack pushed him forward again.  
  
Matthew attached the pilot first and then Drefen, watching in horror as  
the engines on the flyer glowed and fired, coming to life. Soundlessly  
the rivets of the anchor point on the Toledo's hull beside him began to  
loosen. His heart returned to its previous position in his throat as he  
forced himself to move, to not give it a chance to completely give way  
before he made it safely back to the flyer. Taking a hold of Drefen's  
left arm, Matthew fired the pack and pressed himself against the  
Minbari, using his body weight to push both crewmembers up the cable.  
  
The plastisteel cable began to vibrate as the flyer strained, trying to  
take off with the Toledo still attached. Gideon didn't bother to be  
delicate, not wanting to be left behind as he finally noticed what had  
made Galen's ship so impatient. Through the gap between the two ships  
he saw the iridescent glow of a Drakh Raider's forward weapon's array as  
it approached.  
  
The few seconds it took to arrive at the ramp didn't pass quickly  
enough. Fumbling with the tethers, Matthew placed the last two  
crewmembers into the airlock. One last rivet in the anchor was keeping  
the plastisteel cable attached to the Toledo and he didn't want to rely  
on it breaking as soon as he needed it too. Fixing both of his tethers  
to the ramp, Gideon reached for his utility belt and removed the  
acetylene torch. Flipping down the amber visor in his helmet with his  
left hand he steadily gripped the sparker and watched as the flame began  
to glow.  
  
The cable would be harder to cut so Gideon applied the torch to the  
fastener on the flyer's ramp. The strain placed on it by trying to  
force the Toledo out of its trajectory weakened the metal and it needed  
only a little encouragement before it split completely, releasing the  
cable with a vengeance.  
  
Suddenly freed, the flyer nearly flipped over, the force pressing Gideon  
to the ramp. The torch flew from his hand and he madly held on, praying  
that the tethers would keep him from being thrown into the hatch. As  
Galen's ship adjusted attitude and altitude, Gideon felt it bank port  
side, making a tight arc away from the oncoming Raider.  
  
Inertia forced his internal organs into places they had no right to be  
as he hung sideways. Hazarding a quick glance over his shoulder he was  
assured by the four other EVA suited bodies in the airlock. The  
acrobatics hadn't disturbed them too much.  
  
Finally Gideon found himself able to breathe again as the flyer righted  
itself, speeding off in the opposite direction from the Drakh.  
Scrambling backwards, Matthew reclamped his tethers one at a time as he  
crawled off the ramp and into the airlock. Once inside, he palmed the  
switch and thankfully watched the ramp close.  
  
His legs wobbled uncontrollably and he collapsed beside the others.  
Taking deep breaths, Matthew calmed himself before he cycled the  
airlock. Another weary slap on the controls pressurized the small  
chamber and opened the hatch into the main chamber of the flyer.  
  
"I'm getting way too old for this." With a hiss, Gideon's helmet broke  
its seal as he thumbed the latch before prying it off his head.  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
"Something's wrong." Matheson looked up from his lukewarm coffee.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I don't know. I just feel something weird all of the sudden." Dureena  
looked at him in concern.  
  
"You picking up on Galen and the Captain?"  
  
"I shouldn't be, but it's like--"  
  
Matheson's com breeped at his wrist and in his ear. It nearly sent him  
to the ceiling, not entirely expecting the interruption. He toggled a  
switch on the bracelet so Dureena could hear the message as well.  
  
"Matheson. Go."  
  
"Lieutenant, we're picking up a disturbance in the Ghayn system." It  
was Ensign Nielson in navigations. "Increased tachyon emissions also."  
  
Matheson silently swore. "Launch primary 'Fury and Thunderbolt  
squadrons to set up perimeters. I'm coming back to command."  
  
"Launching primary squadrons, aye sir."  
  
Dureena already had his mug and was placing it with hers in a bus tray  
for cleaning.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"No problem." She called after him as he raced through the doors of the  
commissary. Running at nearly full tilt, John dodged through staff and  
crew, hastily apologizing as he startled an engineering tech with a  
stack of reports in her hand. The sheets of paper were tossed up in the  
air and floated down like confetti, spilling in a circle around her  
feet. She was angry, but he didn't have time to help her pick them up.  
  
Matheson skidded past the tube doors and had to back track, slipping  
into the car sideways as the doors began to slide shut. Giving the car  
his command, the Lieutenant reached up to pull the microphone of the com  
link at his ear back into place.  
  
"Nielson, any telemetry on Galen's flyer?" He took a few deep breaths  
to slow his pulse.  
  
"No sir. Not as of yet. Fighters have been launched. What should they  
be looking for, sir?"  
  
"Anything and everything." Matheson mumbled, not sure himself.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"It's a reasonable assumption, Ensign, that if there's something going  
on in that system the Captain's involved. I want escorts on that flyer  
as soon as the pilots detect it."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Matheson toggled a switch on the link, paging Doctor Chambers.  
  
"Chambers here."  
  
"It's Matheson, Doc. Is triage ready for patients?"  
  
"Yes Lieutenant."  
  
"Could you send a med team to the docking bay? Gideon will need  
assistance."  
  
"Of course. Chambers out."  
  
A breep sounded and he quickly answered. "Matheson. Go."  
  
"Theta squadron just spotted the flyer, sir."  
  
"Excellent." The lift doors opened and the Lieutenant marched quickly  
down the corridor.  
  
"The also report a fleet of Raider-class Drakh ships not far behind  
them. Orders?"  
  
"Aw hell."  
  
"Sir?" Matheson frowned. The Ensign had a lot to learn about  
rhetorical answers. John stepped onto the bridge and cut the com link,  
watching as Nielson tapped at the console before him in confusion.  
  
"'Aw hell' means exactly that, Ensign." The younger man nearly leapt  
out of his seat, clearly not expecting Matheson to arrive at command so  
quickly. John allowed himself a small smile; perhaps he had been  
gleaning too much of Gideon's command style lately.  
  
"Start jamming their transmissions." The Communications officer nodded  
curtly and began to work her controls. Another toggle of his com line  
gave him direct broadcast with the squadrons.  
  
"Theta leader, break off escort and form defensive grid." The pilot  
complied and relayed the order. Standing behind the navigations console  
Matheson concentrated on the shape of Galen's flyer as it grew in size,  
coming closer to the Excalibur. "Do not engage unless fired upon. They  
might make a run for it if we don't push them into a fight."  
  
Turning to his left, John glanced at the sensor relay console that  
picked up each ship within scanning distance, labeling it according to  
its friend or foe status. The Lieutenant counted as they appeared.  
Eight Raiders and one Cruiser so far.  
  
"Launch secondary squads and put every thing else on standby."  
  
John finally had clear line of sight of the flyer and it didn't take  
much of a mental debate to decide to scan it. It wasn't a deep probe -  
a P6 wouldn't be able to get much from the distance, but he did pick up  
on six distinctive signatures, two of which he instantly recognized. He  
sighed slightly in relief and slid into the command chair after  
receiving confirmation that the flyer was aboard.  
  
A ray of chartreuse refracted off the hull of the main beam cannon.  
  
"They're firing on us, sir!" Nielson stated the obvious with a twinge  
of panic in his voice.  
  
"So they are. I made a promise to the Captain no harm would come to his  
ship while I was in command. Let's not make me a liar. Get me a firing  
solution on that Cruiser."  
  
"Aye, sir!"  
  



	15. Battle Stations!

Last Call -- Chapter 15: Battle Stations!  
  
  
Gideon had a strong desire to kiss the docking bay floor as he stepped  
down the flyer's ramp, his knees wanting to give out beneath him. The  
singeing spent fuel fumes never smelled better. Medlab techs jogged  
quickly towards him and wheeled their equipment across the deck on  
gurneys, ready to give assistance to the Toledo's injured.  
  
"Sir, are you okay?" Matthew felt a hand rest against his shoulder as  
he finally slumped at the end of the ramp, sitting down.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine, just a little...nevermind." Gideon found the energy to  
stand again, remembering Galen's warning about his ship. If one of the  
med techs touched something out of curiosity-- Gideon didn't want to  
think about the outcome.  
  
"Sir, you should probably sit down." The techs pushed past the Captain,  
mounting the ramp to get to the injured inside. Matthew followed.  
  
"No, I'm fine." Crossing over to his pack he had removed, he pulled out  
the medical case and handed it to a technician. The young man looked at  
it dubiously. "Make sure this gets to Doctor Chambers. I want to know  
what this is."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I kept their helmets on thinking they could get more air that way.  
Better than the recycled stuff in here." Matthew motioned with a hand  
at the crew. Two were stationary on their backs while the others were  
propped against the Captain's equipment. A tech reached for a gloved  
arm, and twisted the seal, exposing a delicate hand. Pressing two  
fingers on the vein behind the thumb, he felt for a pulse.  
  
One by one, the Toledo's crew were rolled onto backboards and taken down  
the ramp to the awaiting gurneys. The EVA helmets were stripped so the  
crew could be checked for vitals. In consideration to the phobia of  
resting horizontal, the gurneys were adjusted to suit the two Minbari  
and raised to a slight angle. Confident all the passengers were stable,  
the Medlab techs wheeled them from docking bay while working on cutting  
off the rest of the suits.  
  
Something seemed off to Gideon as he glanced around the bay, finally  
noticing that the fighter births were unusually empty. Twisting the  
o-ring seal on the glove of his EVA suit, he exposed his hand and  
depressed a toggle on his com bracelet.  
  
"Matheson, what the hell is going on? Why are the bays empty?"  
  
"Welcome back, sir." The Lieutenant answered. "You brought unwanted  
visitors with you. I'm taking care of our pest problem now."  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Less of those vermin in the universe, the  
better. If you need my assistance-"  
  
A heavy quake beneath his feat threatened to pitch Gideon to the deck.  
A familiar down surge of energy echoed throughout the ship as the  
Excalibur drew power from all of its systems to fire the main beam  
cannon. Lights winked out before the backup generators took over and  
Matthew's com link fuzzed out. Static electricity licked at the hair on  
his exposed skin and he closed his eyes, relishing and mentally  
envisioning what was going to come next.  
  
The crackle was audible even within the destroyer as the power from the  
relays combined with that of the main cannon--three beams from the  
Excalibur's fin nacelles pooling into the direction fire from the bow.  
The ship around him vibrated from the immense energy until the surge  
stopped abruptly after every reserve was discharged. Mentally Matthew  
count down the fifty seconds needed to bring up the system again.  
  
"As you were saying, sir?" A small amount of playful smugness was in  
the Lieutenant's voice after he reestablished communications with the  
Captain.  
  
"Way to make a person feel unneeded, Matheson. I'll be in Medbay if you  
have a use for me."  
  
"I'll keep you in mind, sir." The Lieutenant cut the link and Gideon  
smiled to himself.  
  
Turning back to the flyer with every confidence that the Lieutenant  
could handle things with the Drakh, Gideon climbed back aboard to  
collect what was left of his gear and to find Galen. He picked up his  
discarded EVA helmet and placed it in its storage bag. Unclamping his  
other glove, he tossed that in before reaching for the sealed closure  
across his chest.  
  
"Galen, where are you?" Matthew took a few cautious steps in the  
direction he thought he had seen the Technomage disappear and pulled on  
the tab that opened the closure. Peeling his arms out of the suit,  
Gideon adjusted his leather jacket beneath it.  
  
The Captain didn't receive a reply. He pushed down the suit to his  
calves and carefully balanced on one foot while he pulled the magnetized  
boot off the other. Repeating the procedure for the left leg, he  
bundled the suit carefully before placing it in the bag.  
  
"Galen?" Again Matthew carefully moved, not wanting to accidentally  
touch anything as he began to worry. But knowing Galen, Gideon figured  
the Technomage would be gloating on how easy it had all been even if it  
nearly cost the Captain his life. Galen would surely call it 'an  
adventure.'  
  
"Come on Galen, where are you? This had better not be some stupid joke  
of yours."  
  
"I assure you, Matthew, this is no joke." Galen's voice was deadpan and  
nearly breathless as he stumbled into the light. Besides being pale and  
gaunt, dark red blotched his lips where it had trickled from his nose  
and ran in streaks like tears from his eyes.  
  
"...My God, Galen." Matthew caught the Technomage under the arms; Galen's  
legs gave out beneath his weight. "What the hell happened?"  
  
"It wasn't as easy as I had hoped." Gideon eased Galen down to the  
floor and knelt beside him. Reaching for the com link at his wrist,  
Gideon noticed the blood smeared across his hand and his eyes widened.  
  
"Doctor Chambers." Matthew turned his fingers so Galen could see and  
the Technomage nodded wearily as if he knew, but simply passed it off as  
nothing serious.  
  
"Chambers here, Captain. I'm working on the injured crew members right  
now, but I-"  
  
"Doctor, I need another tech unit sent to the docking bay A-SAP."  
  
"Are you injured?"  
  
"No, it's Galen."  
  
"They're on their way, sir."  
  
Gideon turned back to the almost unconscious Technomage. A mixture of  
awe and anger filled Matthew as he looked down at Galen.  
  
"Did you know this would happen?"  
  
"Are you suggesting I planned this?" Galen replied weakly but  
defiantly.  
  
"No." Matthew sighed and looked over at the ramp, impatient for the med  
team to arrive.  
  
"I wouldn't have suggested it if I knew this was going to happen."  
  
"And I wouldn't have agreed for the same reasons."  
  
"The blood?" Matthew looked at his fingers and drew his thumb over the  
tacky film.  
  
"The implants may have done some damage to the surrounding tissue. But  
nothing that won't heal itself in due time."  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
The Starfuries and Thunderbolts flew in small squads, taking turns to  
divide the Raiders, not allowing them to do the same. It took numerous  
rounds of fire to disable a single Raider; standard weapons no match for  
hull technology much like that of the Excalibur's. The energy dispersed  
in ripples over the adapted hull until it began to weaken, opening up a  
site for targeting. The primary mission had been to run interference so  
that the Excalibur could target the larger Cruisers.  
  
Out numbering the enemy helped. Few shots had been taken on the  
Excalibur itself, and those that did make it through the interceptors  
refracted on the hull's energy matrix. To the untrained eye, the view  
through the main console looked like complete chaos as the Earthforce  
ships swarmed about the larger enemy crafts, firing with abandon.  
  
Matheson didn't want to risk the chance for casualties and greater  
damage done to his own fleet. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at  
the display again. Few of the 'Furies had been hit critically, leaving  
them to drift disabled away from the rest. Of the Raiders, only three  
were still completely functional.  
  
"Send out maintenance 'Furies to pick up the disabled fighters and  
ejected pods. Remaining fighters, drive the Raiders away from them and  
provide cover." Matheson watched the display as it tracked the  
increased movement, the two fleets of ships trying to break through the  
opposite defense. The maintenance ships launched from the bay and  
zipped through the disorder, homing in on the distress beacons from the  
downed 'Furies and 'Bolts. Thick grapple arms caught the crafts or  
jettisoned pods before racing back, quickly dropping off the load before  
making another trip. The four-ship squad made short work of the task.  
  
The Lieutenant's eyes lost focus as he concentrated on the flurry of  
messages coming through his com, deciphering pilot chatter from  
information he needed. He deftly heard through the buzz a message from  
a maintenance 'Fury pilot. All disabled were finally aboard.  
  
"Recall the fleet and get jump engines online." Matheson had no  
intention to wait around until the Drakh cracked the jamming signal and  
called in reinforcements. His duty was to the Excalibur and the safety  
of her crew first and foremost.  
  
"Fighters are coming in. Engines ready, sir."  
  
Another flash of energy dispersed on the hull near the command deck,  
bathing the area in a brief glow. Following closely behind was the  
impact of the pulse slamming against the Excalibur. John lurched and  
struggled to remain standing, shifting his feet to cushion the blow.  
  
"Sir, the last Cruiser is targeting us and interceptors are running  
hot. Down to sixty percent effective." An officer looked up from her  
sensor display, her eyes widening at the alert flashing across her  
console.  
  
"Are all the fighter's aboard?" An uneasy fist balled at his side as  
Matheson waited for the reply.  
  
"No, sir. Estimate two minutes until we're set up to jump."  
  
"Evasive action. Bank and face the ship on her least damaged side. Let  
the 'Furies and 'Bolts get in as close as possible. If we have to we'll  
open up a jump point and they can follow through. How close are the  
Drakh?" Another shot seared at the Excalibur.  
  
"Most of their fire is dispersing. At least two clicks, but closing  
fast."  
  
It was too close for comfort. Even if the Excalibur opened up a jump  
point, the ship wouldn't be able to make a hasty retreat without the  
possibility of leaving the fighter squads behind. If they paused once  
inside hyperspace, Matheson risked the chance of the Cruiser being able  
to follow and maintain sensor contact. He wasn't worried as much about  
the Raiders; they weren't jump capable without a gate and the closest  
was back in the Ghayn system.  
  
His fist balled tighter.  
  
Matheson spun on a heel and swore beneath a heavy sigh. He only had a  
few seconds to make up his mind and he hoped it would be for the best.  
  
"Navigations, about face."  
  
Nielson spun in his chair. "But sir-"  
  
"About face, Ensign!"  
  
"Aye, sir." In response to the new commands, the Excalibur banked,  
quickly slicing through space to face the remaining Cruiser.  
  
"Time on target?" Glancing over Nielson's shoulder, Matheson saw the  
etched display light up on the inside of the Ensign's navglasses.  
  
"Twenty seconds."  
  
"On my mark, fire main beam cannon."  
  
"Lieutenant, the jump engines will have to be taken offline."  
  
"I know that Ensign." John didn't have time to explain. He felt the  
hum through the deck subside as the jump engines went offline to power  
the reserves for the main cannon.  
  
Matheson's mental count began. He had to wait until the Cruiser was  
close enough or the enormous blast would be wasted, giving the Drakh an  
opportunity to do the same to an unguarded Excalibur. His eyes fell on  
the counter as it quickly monitored the distance between the two ships.  
Neilson's hand shook above the final switch needed to fire the main  
cannon.  
  
"Fire!"  
  
The lights dimmed as the main console flashed a stand-by, all systems  
losing power. A strange quiet filled command, vacant of normal  
mechanical sounds. Static crackled through the air as power surged  
through the cannon. From his vantage, Matheson witnessed the ray of  
energy blast through the vacuum at the oncoming Cruiser, overtaking the  
Drakh ship before it had a chance to react. The Lieutenant winced,  
squinting through half shut eyes as the craft was engulfed and  
exploded. Only small pieces remained, spinning haphazardly away from  
the point of impact.  
  
"What's the count?"  
  
"Forty five seconds, sir." Neilson replied.  
  
"How long for the jump engines?" Smaller pulses from the remaining  
Raiders shook the Excalibur.  
  
"I'll know for sure when systems are back online, but I estimate seven  
minutes."  
  
Matheson frowned. "Fighters should be back aboard by the time engines   
are online."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good." The Lieutenant returned to the command chair and sat.  
Gradually the lights came back to full strength and machinery hummed to  
life again. "Get confirmation on the squad."  
  
"All ships aboard." Communications replied.  
  
"Fastest normal speed away from those Raiders."  
  
"Fastest normal speed, aye sir."  
  



End file.
